


Bloody Texas

by Kitty (KutieKitty16)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, HIV/AIDS, M/M, sickle cell anemia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-06-10 14:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 40,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15293832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KutieKitty16/pseuds/Kitty
Summary: Lance McClain always felt like he was cursed from birth. Being diagnosed with Sickle Cell Anemia was hard enough; but due to a serious medical error, Lance received an infected blood transfusion. Now his already short life span has been shortened, wearing down on his mind. After stumbling in the hallway of the hospital, Lance meets Keith Kogane- who instantly takes interest in him.**Rated Teen for: graphic sexual content, mature language, potentially triggering depictions of mental disorders**





	1. This Town Can Kiss My Ass

Lance watched the deep red blood snake through the tubing and enter his port. He found the sticky dressing that held the needle in place to be itchy-- almost like a kitten's nails before it learns to sheathe them. Shortly after the blood ran through his veins, a euphoric feeling hit him like a small wave on a lonely beach. His energy rose and his skin gained a glow, bringing a warm smile to his face.

He turned to the nurse beside him, "That feels nice."

She flashed him a sweet smile. Her curly brown hair was tied up in a smooth bun and her pale cheeks were smeared with an ugly pink. She tried to mask her southern American accent, but it was littered throughout her sentences. "Your body's getting 'nough oxygen now."

He chuckled silently and leaned his head back with a deep breath and closed his sparkly gold eyelids.

For as long as Lance could remember, he had always been in pain. Unbearably sharp, stabbing pain in both his body and mind. He was always tired, unable to keep up with the other kids or participate in sports. This made it harder for him to make friends or maintain any that he had. He remembered watching a group of boys play with cards together every day at recess in fifth grade. Since he was too nervous to walk over and ask them if he could join, he watched silently from the green bench across the lot. One day, he was observing them on a chilly autumn afternoon. He wore his older brother's grey beanie and green jacket, resting one of his brown moccasin boots across the bench beside him. It was a typical day until Lance suddenly felt a sharp needle in his hips. He clutched his jacket and tried to bite through the pain with strained breaths, but it got worse. The stinging soon intensified and spread to his legs. He fell to the ground and writhed on the cold concrete for a minute until a teacher heard his screaming. He was rushed to the hospital and pumped full of pain medications to ease his suffering as it continued for hours.

The doctors called it sickle cell anemia. It took longer to get a diagnosis due to his Cuban blood. A rarity in his genetic makeup, but definitely possible.

That day wasn't the first time it happened and it certainly wasn't the last. But after the incident, kids started avoiding him more and spreading rumors through the halls or crumpled up notebook paper. Lance would come home and cry to his mother as she held him and pet his hair. Lance was cursed with a lonely childhood.

High school was worse. Friends would be made but soon fade. They didn't want to hang out with someone who couldn't keep up or drink until they passed out. Instead, Lance stayed at home and watched out the window. Occasionally, he would read or browse his phone, but in the end he was still bored. Doctor's visits, various pills, supplements, and blood transfusions became the routine of his dismal life. Sometimes, Lance would sneak out his window at night and walk around the neighborhood until his body was exhausted, often collapsing on the damp street.

His parents did everything they could to help. With their generous love and support, Lance did slowly start gaining an optimistic view of the world. He learned how to bake from his mother and how to build an adequate bookshelf from his father. Even though his three brothers-Mark, James, and Andy-said they would always be with him, they clung to each other with their love of any and all sports. Lance would watch them play football for a while, but it only made him feel worse seeing how alike they all looked, unlike Lance's body. Shopping was a hobby Lance adored. When his aunt Marie took him to the mall, she was always very patient and sat with him when he needed a break. She would buy him ice cream or bubble tea as they talked on the bench surrounded by their shopping bags.

By the time he was seventeen, Lance was finally living a relatively happy life. He even had two friends that lived in his neighborhood. Hunk's house was directly to the right of Lance's, and they would often sneak out to hang with each other. Pidge was two years younger than they were, but equally as fun. She enjoyed science and space, and excelled in school. It was common for her to tutor Lance in subjects he didn't understand well due to his condition. When they all hung out, they loved to play video games at Lance's house. Due to the obsessive sympathy of his parents, Lance always had the newest games. Pidge and Hunk both understood Lance's situation and never let it affect their time together, quickly becoming the closest people he had throughout high school.

Lance waved to the hospital staff as he left with his mother. He always felt stronger and more energetic after blood transfusions. Even if his body was happy, his mind was still clouded with routine sorrow.

His seatbelt clicked into place as his mother spoke to him. She was a bigger woman with long coils of dark hair. Her skin held traces of stress on her soft face. "You feel better, m'ijo?"

He gave her a small nod, "Sí Mama." Lance adored his mother-even if it wasnt reciprocated. He was thankful for all of her support through his difficult life. He watched the wrinkles on her face stretch as she drove home carefully.

However sad Lance felt, he didn't want to add any more stress to her smooth caramel eyes. He leaned his head against the window and watched the buildings pass by. It was a humid summer day. The sun leaked through the glass, warming his highlighted cheeks. The town seemed to give off a yellow aura, like it was set in an old American western movie. The people were either rich and racist or lived in trailer houses with their five neglected children. Lance's family moved to Texas a few years prior after being recommended to a special doctor. Other than that occasional racism from the locals, it was a nice place for a twenty-year-old to live out the rest of his days.

Lance always tried to see the bright side of things-and he often did. His life had been lonely and boring, and he did all he could to stay positive. He was cursed with unbearable pain, friends were fleeting, and he was always tired. But every experience he went through could never have prepared him for meeting Keith Kogane.


	2. Hide Your Children From The Infection

Lance held his arms out to his side as he followed the yellow line on the hospital floor. His dark brown ankle boots clicked the floor with each one of his dramatic steps. His baby pink long sleeved shirt once fit him nicely, but now hung off his wrists. On hot summer days, his favorite things to wear were his jean shorts and thigh-high white stockings. Sometimes people would comment on his feminine clothing and makeup, but Lance never cared.

A petite Asian nurse gave him a little wave as she passed by, which he returned with a small nod. After a few more steps Lance reached a right turn. He lifted his head curiously and examined his surroundings. If he followed the line and turned right, it would lead him into an elevator; and if he turned left, it would lead him to a stairwell. His mother always told him to use the elevator since he may get hurt if he took the stairs. His head switched directions as he rolled over his options. After a moment, he smirked and turned left.

The silver door handle was chilly, unlike the air outside. The walls of the stairwell were painted an ugly beige, giving off a prison vibe. The only welcoming aura was the sunlight that lit up the claustrophobic area. Lance rolled his eyes and skipped up the stairs with his hands behind his back. The scraping of his boots bounced off the walls as he hopped up each step. He licked his lips and increased his speed. It was always the little things that brought him the most joy. When he got a little too confident on the last step up, the sole of his brown boot caught on the edge of the stair. The cherry blossom-themed Pandora bracelet on his wrist clattered as he caught himself with his knees with a little yelp. He blinked a few times, processing what had just happened.

Black converses entered his field of view with a scrape, "Are you alright, miss?"

The voice was gentle but laced with a harsh tone. Lance lifted his eyes to a pale man with a black mullet holding a hand down for him. He was dressed in ripped black jeans and a band t-shirt–highly inappropriate for the weather in Lance's opinion.

The boy's eyes widened a little when he met Lance's gaze, "-ah, sir then?"

He stared at his hand for a moment before taking it and standing up. A stinging pain shot his knees and right calf when he straightened them, causing him to wince. His stockings had torn and blood trickled into the white fabric. Rolling his eyes, he let out an annoyed "Oh no."

The man's eyes widened a little, "Oh, we should take care of that."

Lance rubbed his forehead with his palm, "Yeah, I'm gonna need to see a doctor."

"A doctor?" His face lit up, "Come with me." He took a step toward the stairs, but stopped and turned back to Lance. "Here," he held his arms out with his back to him, "hop on."

Lance was taken aback by his bold actions. The man was nice, but Lance didn't trust people easily. "Er- why?"

His head turned to look over his shoulder, "It wouldn't be good if you tripped again," his eyes fell to Lance's bloody legs, "and you don't look so good."

Lance wanted to protest, but he didn't have a choice. He was already getting a little light-headed. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around the boy's neck as he crouched to grab Lance's thighs. With a little jump, he started up the stairs. "My name's Keith, by the way."

Keith's hair smelled like the sun and dust. "Lance," he added.

"That's a pretty name." He opened the door with his elbow and they entered the hospital hallway. A crowd of voices and various beeping filled the air. It was like they passed through a void into a new world of motion.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a kid," Lance pouted.

Keith chuckled, then leaned over the counter to a nurse, "Call my brother to room 306."

The nurse responded with a 'right away' and turned to pick up a phone. Keith returned his attention back to Lance as he entered a room, "How old are you anyway?"

Lance hopped off his back and found a spot on the white bed, "Twenty."

Keith rolled over to Lance in a small black office chair, "Really?" He reached for Lance's knees.

Lance quickly stopped his hands with a panicked slap, "Uh, you're gonna need gloves."

Keith eyed him suspiciously, but shrugged and retrieved a pair from the wall. Snapping them onto his wrists, he unlaced Lance's boots and set them on the floor.

The rubber brushed against Lance's thigh as Keith pulled down his stocking. It was ticklish, but he held back from kicking Keith in the stomach right there. The whole situation felt awkward, so he opted to try and start another conversation. "So, you a doctor here?"

Keith slid the left stocking off his foot, "No, but my brother is."

"Oh," Lance's gaze shifted around the room, "Where is he?"

The other stocking came off, "He'll be here real' soon."

Lance's mouth squished together as he tried to stifle a laugh.

Keith shot him a curious look, "What?"

Lance smiled wide, "You talk like a cowboy, too."

He sighed, "Barely."

Lance's finger shot at him, rattling his bracelet, "See?!" He imitated a terribly thick southern accent, "Barely."

Keith thought about it for a second, then laughed. "Yeah, I guess I do." He shook his head in amusement and tugged his other stocking off. "But nowhere near as bad as you do."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Lance playfully slapped his shoulder.

A low, exasperated voice sounded from the entrance. "What's got you laughing?" A man in a lab coat flipped through papers on a clipboard. A distinct scar ran across his nose.

Keith turned to face the doctor with a hand on his knee, "Well, I found a little fr-"

Lance immediately recognized the muscular man. His mouth dropped, "Dr. Shirogane?"

His eyes widened behind his thin glasses, "Lance?" He threw his clipboard into the counter and pushed Keith's chair away, sliding up one of his own. He fussed over Lance with a worried voice, "What happened to you?! You were just here!"

Lance rubbed the back of his neck and turned away with a nervous chuckle, "I-uh-I took the stairs."

"Shiro, you know him?" Keith pointed to Lance with his thumb.

Shiro slid a shiny tray table over to his side, "I'm his doctor." He eyed Keith's hands, "And take those gloves off, you can't touch him."

Lance's chest ached a little and he sulked like a chastised toddler. He knew that Dr. Shirogane didn't mean it like that, but the phrase alone was still offensive. His oldest brother Mark used to yell at his children for hugging Lance at holiday gatherings. When everything was revealed through gossip, members of his family slowly started to keep their distance as if breathing the same air would infect them too. The only person that didn't ever show any sign of disgust was his dad. He only showed fatherly love for his son.

Keith plopped back in his chair and crossed his arms, "Why can't I? You can touch him."

"I'm a doctor," Shiro continued patching up Lance's wounds. "I've been trained to-"

"I have AIDS," Lance spat out. Years of bottling up his emotions made him a lot more blunt with people. They always scrunched up their faces and took a step back, hiding their children behind their legs. Then they make up a convenient excuse and quickly run away. It was better to get it over with quickly than drag out a conversation that would result in hateful ignorance. Keith had been nice and helpful, but maybe their time together was up. At least it was fun while it lasted.

Keith used his shoe as an anchor, swinging his chair side to side. His eyebrow lowered to his cheek, "So?"


	3. You're Pretty Fuckin' Wierd, Not Gonna Lie

Lance sat under the humid shade of the open garage door watching his brothers tackle each other. A soccer ball was kicked around the dark green grass, passing from one shirtless hooligan to the other. From where Lance sat, he could hear their shouts and laughs. They brought a smile to his face for a moment until he realized how left out he was. It wasn't fair. His three brothers were as close as can be, but Lance was always that sibling that your mom would force you to take when you hung out with friends. He hugged his knees a little tighter and rested his chin on them. It was a hot day. Every day was a hot day. Lance could see rays of heat emitting from the streets, obscuring the natural view of the Earth. He was beginning to feel a little too warm as well.

"M'jio."

Lance turned his head to see his father holding out a glass of lemonade. Water had condensated on the outside of it, dripping down onto the concrete. He took it with both hands; the droplets from the glass weaved into his fingers. "Gracias Papi."

His father sat down next to him with a grunt. He was a tall and thin man with dark skin, much darker than Lance's. He patted Lance's shoulder, "How are you doing?"

Lance took a small sip from the glass, then set it on the ground next to him. "I'm good."

His eyes scanned Lance's intently, "I know you are not."

Lance's eyes teared up a little, so he closed them and leaned onto his father's shoulder. His father held his head gently and pet his hair. Lance's breath hitched as he let out a small sob, "It isn't fair, Papi."

"Life is not fair, m'ijo." He patted his back, "We just have to find our own happiness."

Lance's mascara ran with his tears as his hand clutched his father's shirt. The other children never got as much affection from their father as Lance did. He never understood why. His brothers were much bigger and stronger; there was a lot more to be proud of. Mark had a wife and twin daughters, James was a senior varsity soccer player, and Andy was the Einstein of eighth grade. Lance was the problem child. He was terribly sick, bisexual, and housed major self-esteem issues. But his father loved him. Lance was his pride and joy.

"Lance," he started, "you've had a hard a life. This is true, but," he placed his gentle fist on Lance's chest, "it has made you strong. Stronger than you know."

Lance pulled back to carefully wipe the black off his face. His voice was a shaky whisper, "It wasn't even my fault."

His father gave him a sorrowful grin and shook his shoulder, "You will do something great, m'ijo. I just know it." He stood up and fluffed Lance's hair before he walked back in the house. "You'll change the world."

Lance was curled up in his blankets hugging his blue pillow. The moonlight streamed into the room through the fluttering sheer curtains on the window. The house was quiet besides the occasional creaking. It felt empty. Lonely. With a frustrated groan, Lance jumped out of bed and slipped on his jean shorts and black thigh highs. Pulling on a grey hoodie and shoving his feet into his brown boots, he snatched his phone off the nightstand and snuck out the window. Lance's room was on the second floor, so it wasn't the easiest thing to do. Years of escaping had conditioned him into a master.

His shoes hit the ground with a soft thud. Taking a quick look back, he started down the road with his hands in his hoodie. His neighborhood was different at night. It felt like one of those old Chicago gangster movies- with the streetlights and all. Lance stepped dramatically, kicking pebbles across the street. Even if it was dark, the air was still warm, but still significantly cooler.

With a click of his tongue, Lance turned a corner and trudged on. I wonder how long it would take for me to pass out. After that thought, he gradually stopped walking to stare down at the concrete. Sometimes, Lance really scared himself. Twenty pounds lighter, but not an inch happier. With a huff, he stepped forward.

After what seemed like a long enough time, Lance lifted his head to examine his surroundings. He must have wandered down a different street, because he was lost. The neighborhood was dirty and littered with beer cans. Trailers were lined up in uneven rows, broken down cars and old children's toys sat on the lawns. Lance gripped the phone in his pocket, considering just using GPS. In the end, he decided to continue without it. He walked on for a little longer, keeping an eye out for strange people. America was a dangerous place if you weren't careful. Sometimes even if you're extra careful. On top of that, he only had the light of the moon to guide him.

"What are you doing here?"

Lance's boots scraped the gravel as he turned to face the man that spoke to him. He didn't recognize him at first, so he tried to think up a good excuse.

The guy chuckled, "What are you? A stalker?"

Lance finally connected the dots as he stared at him. He leaned his head back with a smirk, "Keith. What a surprise."

"I mean," he ran his fingers through his hair, "I wouldn't mind being stalked by you." He stopped about five feet away from him. He was wearing a black leather jacket and skinny jeans to match.

Lance's smirk turned to a pout and he swung his leg around to face him and leaned forward. "You freaky."

Keith laughed at his adorable behavior as he closed the gap between them, "You don't live around here."

Lance raised an eyebrow at him and cocked his head, "How would you know?"

"For one," he scanned the trailer park, "I know pretty much everyone around. And two," he eyed Lance's shorts, "Your clothes scream 'rich boy.'"

Lance thought it over for a second, "Fair enough."

Keith's eyes darted over Lance's shoulder and shot an evil glare. He lightly grabbed Lance's arm, "It isn't safe here."

Lance shook his arm off, "Where are you taking me?"

"Just be quiet," he wrapped an arm around Lance's shoulders and walked down the gravel road, "Let's go to my house."

Keith's mysterious behavior scared Lance a little. If he didn't know Dr. Shirogane was his brother, he would've ran away right then. He stayed under his arm until they reached Keith's place. Keith lived in a house next to the trailer park, seperated by a creaky wooden fence. It was a nice little home and well taken care of. White and baby blue decorated the outside, framing a grand white door. Keith held the door for him as they entered. The lights were on, giving off a welcoming cream aura. In front of the door were stairs up to the second floor; to the left was a formal living room; and to the right was formal dining area.

Keith called out to the kitchen through the right side, "Shiro!"

Lance suddenly remembered how Dr. Shirogane reacted the last time they were caught together. He tugged on his leather sleeve, "Wait, but he said-"

Keith silenced him with a hand, "He's like that with everyone, don't worry." He waited for a moment, "And I forgot that he's not home tonight." He laughed at himself, "Doctor life."

Lance chuckled nervously, "Yeah."

"Here, come on." Keith gently grabbed his wrist and led him up the stairs.

Keith's room was dark, both in color and vibe. It had a uniform color scheme of black and red with band posters littering the wall. Clothes splattered the floor and cans piled on his desk.

Lance eyed the mess, "Are you really an adult?"

Keith pulled off his jacket, "Well, I wasn't expecting a surprise guest."

Lance picked at the various trophies of Monster and Red Bull, "Do you always bring strange boys up to your room?"

"Sometimes," Keith tossed his jacket onto his unmade bed. "Depends on how adventurous they are."

Lance didn't get it at first but after thinking over his words, he pieced the situation together. He whipped around to keep his eyes on him. "You didn't bring me up here to...?"

"What?" Keith gave him a cheeky smile. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Lance inspected his stance, "You really are freaky."

Keith shrugged, "Are you saying you're not?"

"You're gay, aren't you?" Lance crossed his arms and stayed on the other side of the room.

"Yeah." Keith didn't hesitate with his answers- ever. He started to laugh, "Your little femboy ass is, too."

"That's not a question." Lance rested one of his feet as it started to hurt.

Keith averted his eyes to think and tried again, "Your little femboy ass is, too?"

Lance gave him an annoyed glare and tightened his crossed arms, "Why did you help me? You're supposed to be disgusted. You're supposed to avoid me and keep your distance. Why do you continue to seek me out?"

"Hmm," Keith's eyes traced the ceiling in thought as he tugged a boot off. He shrugged, "You're interesting."

"Don't do that."

He raised an eyebrow, "Do what?"

"Make me fall in love with you."

Keith's boot fell from his hand with a thud. They stared at each other for a while as Lance nibbled on his cheek. Keith's eyes seemed to look right into Lance's soul. He was an open book to this man, too vulnerable for comfort. It was a strange feeling, like his chest wanted to burst and his legs wanted to run. Lance didn't like it one bit.

"Then you gotta stop doin' that."

"Doing what?"

"Doing things that make me wanna kiss you."

Lance blushed hard at the sexy look he gave him. "I'm dying," Lance dragged out every syllable, "Like for sure. Dying. Like I only have a few years left."

Keith's gaze hardened, the greyish purple in his eyes deepened. They held the entire universe in them, all the wisdom of the gods and every emotion at once. His lips finally opened to respond. "What are you so afraid of?"

Lance stroked the carpet with the toe of his boot. He opened his mouth a few times in an attempt to answer. After a moment of hesitation, he finally found his voice. "You."


	4. Purple Opia

Lance cried out through intense pain and clutched his hands together. Sharp, almost unbearable stinging tore through his hands and joints. Tears started to fall from his eyes as he writhed on the blankets of his bed. He took a few quick breaths and sucked air through his teeth. He let out a pitiful whine, "Papi."

"Let me take you to the hospital, m'ijo," he sat in a chair next to Lance's bed, placing a hand on his arm. His face was calm, but his hands shook.

Lance shook his head with tightly closed eyes, "No, I can take it."

Lance's stomach churned and he was sure that he would vomit at any time. His pounding head and aching neck added to the dizziness he felt. A wave of needles attacked his knees, causing him to pull them up and yelp. The feeling seeped into his back, adding to his torture. His father had given him pain meds, but they only did the bare minimum for him. It was painful, so painful, but the pain made Lance feel more alive. It also reminded him that he was dying.

His father stood with a sigh and leaned down to pick up his son with gentle arms, "Let's go, m'ijo. That's enough."

Lance had resisted his father for too long, and the agony took away his voice. He clung to his father as he was carried to the car and rushed to the hospital. Dr. Shirogane was immediately called in and provided Lance with the care he needed. Whether it was on his bed or in the hospital room, he was still in pain. The morphine took a good portion of it away, but not all of it. The crisis lasted for hours, leaking into the early morning. He pitifully cried into the stiff pillow the entire time, squeezing his father's hand. Lance begged his body to just pass out over and over, but it never did.

Sickle cell was already immensely painful; combining it with AIDS made it excruciating. The doctors gave him five more years. They said he wouldn't live past twenty-five. After receiving the various methods of pain management and a blood transfusion, Lance finally fell asleep around six a.m.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light as he hesitantly opened them. The lights were off, but the window casted a yellow and red glow into the space. He figured that it was evening already. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he adjusted his sore body with a series of pitiful wincing. He was still alive, much to his dismay. Lance yawned and slowly sat up.

"Oh, you're awake."

Lance turned his aching head toward the small leather couch next to him. Keith sat back, leaning his head on his elbow. Lance scanned the room, "Where's my father?"

Keith sat up with a tired grunt, "He went to get coffee."

Lance squinted at him in suspicion, "How did you get in here?"

"Your dad let me in." He stood with his hands in his jean pockets and stepped toward the bed, "I insisted that he should get some rest."

Lance looked up through his eyelashes, "How did you know I was here?"

He shrugged with pursed lips, "My brother is your doctor."

"He told you?"

"No, but the only reason he ever rushed out of the house like that was for a 'special patient,'" he motioned the air quotes with his fingers. "I finally realized who he was taking care of."

Lance let his gaze fall and he took a deep breath. He wanted to protest, but company wasn't a bad thing at the time. Lance was lonely, but he still didn't know what he thought about Keith. Well, he thought he was weird, but he was different than everyone else. Tempting, but dangerous.

Keith bent down and placed a hand on Lance's cheek, pulling him into a soft kiss. When Lance realized what happened, he jumped back. "Why did you- why would you do that?!"

Keith shot him a cocky smile, "You looked cute."

Lance tilted his head and pursed his lips together, "Dr. Shirogane would kill you if he saw."

He leaned back up and stroked Lance's cheek with a light finger, "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do, I-" he slapped Keith's hand away, "I know the look."

"The look?" He raised an eyebrow as he stuck his hand back in his pocket.

"You know-" he motioned with a nod, "The look. The one where people think that you're just a piece of garbage. That you're dirty. The look people give me when they're trying to be nice, but totally hate my very being with all th-"

Keith sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Lance into another kiss. His warm hands held his cheeks with care. He was gentle and caring. Scary. Lance was stiff at first, but gradually gave in and wrapped his arms around Keith's neck to deepen the kiss. Keith adjusted himself to sit on the bed and pulled Lance into his lap. His strong arms supported Lance's weak posture, bracing his spine and lower back. The wires attached to Lance got in the way a little, tugging on his arm and nose.

Keith pulled back and looked up at Lance's flushed cheeks. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile, "I don't think you're disgusting." He used his fingertips to brush a few strands out of his face. "Lance, you know that I like you, right?"

"I figured, but...why?" Lance had stayed at Keith's house that night he found him wandering around town. They talked for a long time about life and school and just each other in general. Even though it was his house, Keith let Lance sleep in his bed when he passed out, choosing to take his floor. After that night, they continued to text each other. Lance's family even started to point out how much he was on his phone lately.

Keith gave him a cheeky smirk and shrugged, "You're my type."

Lance raised an eyebrow, "Weak and dying?"

With a gentle smile and a nudge to his shoulder, Keith corrected him. "Sweet and unique."

Lance stifled his giggle, "Femboy?"

Keith laughed, "Femboy." He hugged his waist a little tighter, "Come on, give me a chance."

"I barely know you," Lance challenged.

Keith shook his head, "False. We know a lot about each other. Plus you've known me for almost a month now."

"Is that even enough time?"

"You'd be surprised." Keith leaned toward him, but kept their lips separated. "Come on. We're both adults here." Lance tried to accept a kiss, but Keith pulled back. He looked up at him with heavenly eyes. "Give in. Let me love you."


	5. Why Are You Such A Douche?

The McClain house was bustling with the sounds of playing children and clanking dishes. Lance held a tray of cookies up high to avoid dropping it on two kids that ran through the kitchen. When it was safe, he maneuvered himself over to his mother's side and placed the tray onto the counter. He went to lean over and kiss her temple, but caught himself and opted out. "Can you hand me that spatula, Mama?"

She handed it to him with a fake smile, then returned to the cookie dough. Lance watched her roll it into balls and place them in neat rows on the worn cookie sheets. The sound of playful screaming caught his attention and he glanced over his shoulder for a second. His beige sweater hung from his shoulders, slightly covering his shorts and white cat tights. Lance pushed up his sleeves, then scraped the cookies off to put them on a flower platter.

He paused for a second, letting his hands fall to the counter and his eyes look up at the ceiling. "Ma, I'm fine. Really."

She sighed and shook her head, keeping her eyes on the bowl. "I don't know what you're talking about, m'ijo."

He raised his chest a little and stared at the side of her face, "I'm talking about what happened in the hospit-"

She slammed her hand down onto the counter, clattering the tin and causing Lance to jump. Her eyes didn't meet his, "I don't want to hear it."

Lance's heart pounded against his ribs. He took a deep breath and returned his gaze to the counter, "He is going to be in my life sometimes, you know that r-"

"Lance!" She kept her eyes down, "I said no."

Lance pushed his lips together and threw the spatula down onto the counter. He stomped away, muttering under his breath loud enough for her to hear. "I'm not a fucking disgrace."

He shoved open the doors to the living room and met the gaze of his brother, Mark. His arms were crossed as he leaned against the wall next to the short stairs. The doors behind Lance swung back and forth until they found their spots. The brothers stared unmoving at each other for a while. When Mark finally opened his snarky mouth to speak, Lance grabbed the railing and pulled himself up the stairs. He slammed his bedroom door and fell onto his bed. Sounds of various people filled the house. Lance closed his eyes to pick out the distinctions among them. His nieces and cousins chased each other; his aunts and uncles talked by the grill; and Mark entered the kitchen to assist his mother. His room door opened, then shut quietly.

Lance opened his eyes to his father sitting on the floor beside his bed. He gave Lance a smile and reached over to stroke his hair. "Lo siento, m'ijo."

"It's not your fault, Papi." He pushed himself up and braced with his arms, "She doesn't understand."

"She just wants what's best for you."

Lance rubbed his eyes, "Then why doesn't she want me to be happy?"

He took a deep breath, "They don't know him well, but I can tell he makes you happy."

Lance averted his eyes, "I don't know what I think of him."

He hesitated, "Well, can we meet him?"

Lance locked his wide eyes to his father's, "Keith? Here?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Maybe if they met him, they would like him."

"But what if it doesn't go well?"

He stood with a grunt, "Invite him over, m'ijo. You aren't happy. I can tell that you need him right now." He motioned to the house, "This party is all day, just invite him."

"But wh-"

He stopped Lance with a finger, "If anyone gives you trouble, tell them it was my idea."

Lance's eyes teared up. He jumped into his father's arms, "Thank you, Papi."

Be there in five minutes. Lance read the text over and over again as he hugged his knees under the cool shade of his porch steps. His father briefed his mother on the surprise guest as he went outside to avoid her spiteful reaction. They had walked in on Lance sitting on Keith's lap in the hospital bed. Immediately, his mother flipped out. She had never been supportive of his sexuality, and seeing it happen in front of her just made her angry.

The sound of a loud motor caught Lance's attention. A red sports bike pulled in front of his house, revving loudly. Lance stood up and skipped over to it with a smile. Keith removed his helmet with a sexy head shake and stepped off the bike. Lance increased his speed and jumped onto him, wrapping his legs around his waist. Keith laughed at his cute hello and spun him around a few times. Lance looked down to him with a giggle, brushing his hair away from his eyes.

Keith squeezed his waist, "Well, that was a nice welcome."

Lance finally realized what he had done, blushing furiously. He fidgeted in an attempt to get down, but Keith held him in place. Eventually, he gave up and covered his face with his hands, "Ah, I'm sorry!"

Keith's chest jerked as he laughed, "Don't be sorry!" He smoothed his voice, "Look at me."

Lance peeked through his fingers, then removed his timid hands from his reddened face. Keith glanced at his lips, then chuckled at himself. "I- uh, I can't kiss you when you're higher than me."

Lance's chest jumped with the weight of those words. No one had ever taken an interest in Lance like Keith had. He was his first everything: first kiss, first boyfriend, first guy to ever love him despite his illnesses. He brought his hands to Keith's cheeks and kissed him gently. The sound of a child playfully retching caught their attention, reminding Lance of his cousins playing in the yard. Keith lowered him down and turned to face the children. They all giggled and whispered in each other's ears. One of Mark's twins trotted up to them, leaving the other children. Her black pigtails bounced around as she skidded to a stop and looked up to Keith with wide eyes.

"Are you tío's girlfriend?"

Her question brought a smile to Keith's face. He knelt down to her level and cupped a hand around his mouth, leaning toward her. "Actually," he whispered, "Tío is my girlfriend."

She mouthed an 'oh' and giggled at Lance. He slapped Keith's shoulder, "You can't just say things like th-"

"María!"

The little girl turned around at the sound of her name. Mark stood out on the porch, calling out angrily to his daughter. "Come here now!"

María turned back to Keith with a frown as she hesitantly ran to her father. Mark shot a death glare at them as he yanked her inside.

Keith slowly stood up and wrapped his hands around Lance's waist, "Is there, uh, something I should know?"

Lance leaned into his neck and sighed. "My family isn't very open to the idea of you."

"Any of them?"

"Well," he leaned into his chest, "The kids seem to like you, and of course my father likes you."

He pet Lance's head, "But the others don't."

"They don't like you, or they don't know about you."

Keith kissed his head, "Well, that's just fucking great."

Lance gave him a sheepish smile, "Sorry."

"Let's just go, you crazy son of a bitch."

They broke apart and walked toward the house. Lance gently laced their fingers together. His chest ached with anxiety with each step they took. When they reached the door, Keith opened it for him.

The kitchen was filled with Spanish arguments, and Lance knew it was his parents. He hesitantly spoke up, "Mama, Papi!"

The voices silenced and Lance's father exited the kitchen. With his hands raised, he welcomed them. "Keith! My boy! How are you?"

Keith bowed slightly, "I'm doing great."

He shot a warning look at Lance, then smiled and let them go. Lance watched him leave out the front door. He pulled Keith's arm along through the dining room, avoiding the kitchen to get to the back porch. Every adult had a beer in their hand and talked cheerfully with one another. Sizzling from the grill filled the air with the smell of steak. There was a fire pit down from the patio, which Lance directed Keith to.

Around the fire sat Lance's father, uncle, and aunt with two of his cousins. He walked up to them and stood holding Keith's hand. When he had their attention, he introduced him. "Guys, this is Keith."

Their judging stares pierced through Lance's body as he directed Keith to a cut log. They sat down and Lance swung his legs over Keith's, stroking the back of his hand. The adults returned to their conversations and ignored the two boys.

Keith leaned into Lance's ear, "I don't think they like me."

"They just need to get used to you-"

"Keith, actually," Lance's father caught their attention, motioning to Keith, "knows how."

A bigger woman with freckles spoke up, "Oh my."

"He knows what?" Lance switched his gaze from his father to Keith.

"He's a bartender," his father explained with a smirk.

He turned back to Keith with a raised eyebrow, "Really?"

Keith let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well I, uh, yeah. I am."

Lance scooted a little closer to him and tugged on his shirt collar, "How does my father know more about you than I do?"

"I've known your dad for years, did you not know that?"

Lance scrunched his eyebrows together, "What do you mea-"

"And little Rosel was so confused!" The woman belly-laughed. Everyone joined in on her laughing, clinking their bottles.

When they quieted down, a man with short black hair and an attractive jawline turned to them. "So, Keith, was it?"

He nodded, "Yes."

"I'm Luis." He motioned to the talkative woman, "And this is my wife, Liliana."

Keith gave them a slight bow, "Nice to meet you."

He leaned onto his knees and twirled his beer bottle. "So, do you have any siblings?"

"Uh, one." He dropped his gaze, "He's a doctor, actually."

Lance leaned into his ear, "Keith I swear to god, you better not."

"Really?!" Liliana chimed. "That's very impressive! What's his name?"

"Keith," Lance warned.

"His name is Shiro." Keith locked eyes with Lance. "Takashi Shirogane."

The adults fell silent for a moment. Finally, Luis voiced what everyone was thinking. "As in...Dr. Shirogane?"

Everyone erupted into ironic laughter and took a sip of their drinks. Lance jumped up and tugged on Keith's arms to stand him up. "Yes, yes. He's Dr. Shirogane's brother." He led Keith away from the fire, "We're gonna go now!"

Keith kept his hand laced into Lance's as they walked to the porch. Lance's other uncle, Jorge, called the family to dinner. Lance led Keith through the craziness of children and drunk adults. They found two spots near the end of the outdoor table. Lance's father served them their food instead of letting them fend off the other family members, keeping Lance from exhausting himself and heightening his anxiety. All of Lance's family eventually claimed their spots; the kids sat at a smaller table off to the side. Lance and Keith sat next to his parents and opposite of Mark and his wife, Claire. To Lance's right was Luis and Liliana; to Claire's left was his grandparents, Selma and Juan.

Lance didn't eat much anyway, so he cut little pieces of his steak and fed them to Keith. Nibbling on his own morsel, he leaned on Keith's shoulder and watched the bustling table. Utensils grabbed at various platters and mouths interacted with various faces. It all faded into a blur. Everything happened quickly in Lance's life, but when he was with Keith, time slowed down. Even then, the world sped into motion around them as they sat there in the uncomfortable porch chairs.

Lance was brought out of his daze when he made eye contact with Mark. His disgusted eyes pierced through Lance's chest as he so openly judged them. Lance knew what he was going to say even before it ever came out of his mouth.

His teeth scraped the fork as he took a bite of his steak. Motioning to Keith with a nod, he smacked his lips obnoxiously. "So, you gonna infect him now?"


	6. Do You Wanna Get Your Husband, Or Should I?

Several forks hit their plates with the tension of a thousand cords. Keith squinted and stared at him in awe. "What did you just say?"

Mark didn't answer him. The entire left side of the table was silent in shock. Lance broke off the eye contact with Mark and looked to Keith. He calmly stroked his arm, "Don't listen to him. Just ignore it."

Keith eyed Lance suspiciously, which quickly turned into sorrowful realization. He whipped his head back to Mark. "Did you just..." he trailed off in disbelief.

Mark set down his fork, "You're getting yourself into a difficult situation."

Lance swung his legs over Keith's lap and leaned into his neck, "Keith, just don't."

Keith stroked the cat pattern on Lance's thigh, "He's your brother. Shouldn't you be happy for him?"

"For him?" he let out a snarky chuckle, "He'll be dead in a few years."

"Mark, that's enough." Lance's father hit the table with his fist.

Keith lowered his gaze and let out a laugh of disbelief. He wiped his mouth with his napkin. "How about we take this away from the children?"

Mark slowly stood, pushing his chair back with his knees.

"Keith, he's just provoking you," Lance pleaded as his legs were slid off Keith's lap, "Just leave it alone."

The other family members slowly started to become aware of the situation, turning their heads toward the hostile stand-off. Lance's father stood with them and held a hand to his son, "Mark! Knock it off!"

They argued with their eyes for a moment, then walked off the porch. Lance jumped out of his chair and hopped down the stairs to follow them. The children tried to come with, but were held back by Lance's grandparents. His father told his wife to stay there and stomped after them. Lance tried to keep up with Keith's pace, holding onto his sleeve. "Keith, it's fine, really! He's always like this, it doesn't bother me!"

Keith ignored Lance's pleas as he and Mark walked to the side yard, out of view of the other family members. When they arrived, they faced each other like some old Western stand-off. Keith finally brought his attention to the worried Lance. He took his wrist gently off his shirt and kissed his forehead. "Just stand back."

"But Keith!" Lance felt two arms wrap around his waist, pick him up, and pull him back.

"Let them go, m'ijo." His father put him down away from the boys, holding him in place by the shoulders.

"Papi, they're going to hurt each other!" Lance tried to keep them in his view.

"Let them," he finally gained Lance's attention.

Lance tilted his head and furrowed his brows, "What? Why?!"

He locked eyes with his concerned face, "Mark isn't going to learn if he's never punished. He's had this coming for a long time now."

"But Papi!"

He tightened his grip on Lance's shoulders, "Leave them be."

"Can't you see that no one wants you here?" Mark leaned toward Keith.

He was taller, but Keith wasn't intimidated. "I don't know what you've seen, but it looks like you are the only one that doesn't want me here."

He motioned over to the worried Lance, "He's fucking sick. Did he tell you how he got it? His little sob story? He's a fucking liar."

Keith had enough and shoved him back. He was strong- definitely experienced. "Don't you dare talk about him like that!"

"Keith!" Lance pushed against his father's hold in a desperate attempt to try and rescue him. Keith shot Lance a 'don't worry, baby' look and returned to the fight.

Mark raised his arms to make himself look bigger, "He's a whore! You really want to be with someone like that?!"

Keith shoved him again, "Why do hate him so much? What the hell did he do to you?!"

"Little fucker gets the special treatment for sleeping around and dying!" He pumped his finger to Lance again, "He's done nothing to help this family!"

Keith screamed in his face, "What do you want him to do? Stroke your ego?!"

Mark finally threw a punch. Lance didn't even have enough time to react as Keith ducked and hit him in the ribs. As Mark recoiled, he jumped back to gain some distance. Keith got cocky and threw out, "Come on! You wanna fight?!"

Mark drew a couple frustrated breaths and threw another punch. Keith leaned back to grab his arm, knee his chest, and throw him down. Again, he jumped back to stay away from Mark.

Lance calmed down in confused confidence. He was good. Really good. A laugh formed in Lance's chest and drew a smile on his cheeks. He cupped his hands around his mouth and leaned forward. "Kick his ass, baby!"

Keith turned his head to flash a wink. Claire appeared from the backyard, running up to Lance and his father. She yelled at her husband, "Mark! Knock it off now! You're being a child!" A group of Lance's uncles and older cousins followed after her and gathered to watch the fight. James and Andy snuck their way in with surprised looks on their faces. Andy looked up to Lance with especially worried eyes, watching him jump around and cheer on the man that was fighting his favorite brother.

Lance giggled and hopped forward, "Get him, babe!"

Claire flashed a disgusted look at Lance, "What are you doing? Mark's gonna get hurt!"

Lance planted his fists on his waist, "Oh fuck you, Claire."

He ignored her dramatic gasp and cheered on his boyfriend. Keith had grabbed Mark's arm and swung him around, landing on the ground; kicked his head; then wrapped his leg around his arm to roll over and into a headlock. Keith leaned down into his ear, "Don't ever fuck with me or my man. I won't let you off without any broken bones again."

Keith broke his hold and jumped back as Mark stumbled up, holding his shoulder. He turned to notice Lance running up to him with a smile. Keith outstretched his arms, catching the tiny Lance as he jumped on him. Almost all of Lance's family that gathered cheered at Mark's defeat, but a few didn't approve. Lance giggled and kissed Keith with a wide smile.

Lance's father walked up to Mark with a scowl on his face, "I think you should leave now, Mark."

Lance watched the scene from Keith's arms, leaning his cheek down on his head. Mark opened his mouth to protest, but clicked his teeth and called for his wife. They all left with frowns on their faces. María snuck a wave to Keith as she was forced into the car with her sister.

The family that supported Keith patted his back and offered him a beer. He put down Lance to accept it and raised it in a thankful 'cheers.'

Lance kissed his cheek, "They like you now!"


	7. Who Gave You The Virus?

Lance woke up in pain. His knees felt like balls of red-hot needles steadily climbing up to his hips through his veins. His voice caught in his throat and he struggled to breathe. He swung his sore legs over the side of his bed and pulled himself up. His muscles gave out from under him causing him to tumble to the floor. Intense pain pulsed through his skull. He tugged at his hair as he cried out with every hit. His fingernails clawed their way toward the door. Lance quickly realized that the right side of his body was going numb. Then, his arms lost their strength, unable to pull his body any further. His breathing increased as he panicked. Babbling and crying out for anyone to hear, he tried to keep his eyes from blurring. But he eventually went blind.

He heard his bedroom door burst open and his father call out to him, but his mind was too muddled and confused to make sense of it all. Hands gripped his arm and held his face. An ambulance was called and Lance waited in cloudy pain for it to arrive.

Keith violently shoved the hospital doors open and raced down the hallway. His eyes scanned every face he saw, searching for any indications of news.

"Keith!"

Keith stopped as he heard his name from a small waiting room. Lance's father stood and walked toward him. His mother sat in one of the chairs; James and Andy sat on either side with their heads on her shoulders. Keith gave Lance's father a desperate look, turning his body around to continue his search. "Where is he? Is he okay?!"

"Keith, look at me." He placed his hands on his shoulders to hold him down. "He's with the doctors right now. They pulled him into surgery."

Keith looked up at him, eyes stinging. "What happened?! Is he gonna be okay?!"

He wrapped a fatherly hand around his shoulder and led Keith to a chair away from his wife and sleeping children. They sat down and Keith held his breath as he waited for answers. Lance's dad took a deep breath and leaned onto the armrest. "He had a pain crisis during the night. It woke him, and he tried to get to me."

Keith furrowed his brows and gave him a nod, "Yeah..."

He swallowed hard and ran his tongue over his chapped lips. "It was bad. We were updated a little bit ago. He," there was a heavy pause as he locked eyes with Keith, "He had a stroke."

Keith's chest convulsed and his stomach flipped. He took a look around to keep tears from forming.

"It was expected with his conditions; this wasn't a surprise for the doctors." He dropped his somber gaze, "I can tell."

He leaned his elbows onto his knees and ran his fingers through his hair. Keith's voice was a raspy tremble, "But will he be okay?"

"We don't know. If he only had Sickle Cell, it wouldn't be as complicated as it is." He sat back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes. "Keith..."

Keith turned his head to face him, keeping his hands on his sore head.

Lance's dad kept his gaze forward, "There is a great chance that he may not make it." Their eyes finally locked again. "I just want to be honest with you."

Keith bit down on his trembling lip and nodded. A hand patted his back, then stood to walk away. Keith stayed there with his head going a million miles an hour. To think that he may never see Lance alive again. That Lance's deep blue eyes wouldn't shoot through his heart anymore. That his sun-kissed skin would lose what's left of its color. It was heartbreaking. He breathed out a silent prayer to the God and Goddess for guidance and strength.

He reached out for Lance's father before he could leave. "Wait. Can I...ask you a few questions?"

He sat with Keith for a while to discuss Lance's condition. He was patient and understanding—the perfect father.

"So," Keith leaned onto his knees and spoke with his hands, "How exactly did he get this sick?"

A somber smile tugged at his face, "Lance was born with Sickle Cell, of course, and he struggled with it through his childhood. Kids were mean, like they always are. When he reached high school, we thought it would get better for him. But it only made him feel even more isolated. Then, he made two friends. They helped greatly.

"But," his face grew cold as he recoiled at the memories. "When Lance was about eighteen, he started getting sick. Little things: colds, coughs, and such. We didn't think anything of it until we realized just how much he was getting sick." He snuck a look at Andy and James, then continued.

"The doctors did so many tests on him. They weren't sure at first, but then your brother came along. He suggested STD tests." He used his fingers to sort his thoughts. "We—we never had any reason to believe it would be—!" He trailed off, but quickly brought himself back.

"To our surprise, one test came back positive. For HIV." He gave Keith a troubled look, "We were so angry at him. Even though he insisted that it couldn't be possible, we chastised him for having unsafe sex when he was already sick." He let out a frustrated breath and rubbed his face. After a moment, he lifted his head to face him, "Lance is a virgin. I should've listened to him sooner. It took a lot of investigating, but we eventually found the source. Somewhere, someone messed up and gave my boy an infected blood transfusion.

"It was too late for him. Nothing could reverse what had been done. The HIV progressed way too quickly, and we hadn't caught it in time."

Keith wiped his sore eyes, "So he never did anything wrong." They sat in silence for a moment as he processed the information. A tear fell from his cheek, "He didn't deserve any of this."

Two tennis shoes appeared in his sight. A small girl kneeled down to face him and hugged her knees. Her light hair was cut short while large, round glasses sat on her nose. Wide-eyed and frowning, she opened her mouth to speak. "Are you Keith?"


	8. I'm Gonna Crush This Coffee Cup.

"I'm Pidge," She motioned to a larger man behind her, "and this is Hunk."

Hunk gave him a smile and sweet wave. Keith gave a slight bow, "Yeah I'm Keith, Lance's—" he trailed off.

Pidge leaned toward him and finished his sentence, "Boyfriend. We know."

"I see," he lowered his gaze in thought.

Lance's father looked up to them, "Thank you for coming."

"It's our pleasure, honest." Hunk placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort. "Lance is our best friend."

Pidge adjusted her glasses, "I hope he will be alright."

A silent agreement filled the air. Keith took a deep breath and leaned into his hands. His stomach ached and his head pounded. Every voice was drowned out by his heart in his throat. Lance had to be okay. He couldn't die here, not today. There was so much he wanted to do together. They waited for hours in the hospital. Pidge and Hunk went to get everyone coffee and donuts, then chatted with Keith and Lance's father. Keith liked them; they were supportive of Lance and obviously cared for him very much.

After what felt like forever, Keith sat fiddling with his coffee cup. A doctor walked up to them, his steps made Keith's heart pound even more. The group stood when they noticed the doctor approach. Lance's father was the first to step forward with a worried expression, "Is he alright?"

Keith stood next to him, waiting for the news. The man made eye contact with everyone before he spoke. "Mr. McClain, your son is a very lucky boy. The surgery went very well, and he is recovering in the Intensive Care Unit."

Sighs of relief filled the tense air, and Lance's mother started to cry. She clung to Lance's father as he asked the doctor, "When can we see him?"

"Due to his condition, we are limiting visitors to only two people." He held up two fingers as he spoke. "Whoever that is can come with me."

Keith wanted to jump forward and beg to go, but he took a step back and let his parents follow the doctor. He watched them as they were led down the hall and took a left turn. When they were out of view, the realization of it all hit Keith like a giant wave. A flood of emotions ran through his veins, along with his exhaustion. His head felt light and his muscles relaxed. The happy cheers from Pidge and Hunk faded as his vision whited-out and he collapsed.

Keith woke up in a hospital bed. His head was muddled and confused. With a strained breath, he sat up and held his achy head.

"Welcome back."

Keith turned to see Shiro sitting next to him, magazine in hand. He was dressed in his scrubs and lab coat. Various pens stuck out from his pocket. Keith rolled his eyes, "What happened?"

Before Shiro could answer, the memory of the night came back. He threw the blanket off and launched himself off the bed. Shiro caught him as he stumbled, "Woah there, you passed out. Chill for a bit."

Keith regained his balance and pushed him away. "I can't, I have to—!" he cut himself off as he remembered that Shiro was Lance's doctor. He whipped his head around and grabbed his shoulders, "How is Lance?!"

Shiro held his hands up in defense, "Alright, calm down. You were only out for like three minutes for one. And two, he's fine. His parents are with him in the ICU."

Keith shook him, "But how was the surgery? Is he gonna be okay?!"

He lightly grabbed Keith's wrists and removed his arms, "We are monitoring him, but it looks like he is going to recover quickly and fully."

Keith let out a relieved sigh, clutching his sore chest. He caught his breath, "I have to go back to his friends, we were waiting for his parents to come back—!" Keith had started to walk out, but Shiro grabbed his arm. Keith gave him a questioning look.

"Keith," he hesitated, pulling his arm back, "Why are you so hung up on this guy? He is not good for you."

He crossed his arms. Keith was tired of everyone opposing their relationship—opposing Lance. "That really isn't your decision, Shiro."

He slowly stood from his chair, "Keith, I know what's wrong with him. I'm his doctor. It just isn't a good idea to be involved with someone like him."

"Why?!" Keith was fed up. He wanted to run to Lance, ignore the doctors and just go to him. "What is so bad about him?!"

Shiro opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything. He thought about his words, "I can't say much. What I can say is that he is very sick. Sick enough to put you at risk of getting si-"

Keith rolled his eyes and turned to walk out. He was perfectly aware of what Shiro was going to say and didn't want to put up with it. Shiro called after him, but he exited the room with a dramatic door slam.

Pidge and Hunk fussed over him when he returned, but he reassured them he was fine. They were nice. Keith didn't get a lot of affection—definitely not from Shiro. The three of them retrieved more donuts for James and Andy while they waited for any news. Lance's brothers were quiet but respectful. Keith didn't have the courage to talk to them. Plus, Andy gave him an angry glare a couple times. After waiting for about an hour, Lance's parents returned.

Lance's mother wore an angry frown, arms crossed. His father placed a hand on her back in comfort, but she shoved it off. The group was silent as she stomped over to James and Andy, taking them by the wrists and leading them out. Keith gave Lance's father a curious look, waiting for an answer.

He watched his wife leave with a straight face. After she disappeared from view, he took a deep breath and walked up to Keith. "Lance is awake, and uh—" a smile formed on his cheeks, "he wants to see you."


	9. We've Gotta Stop Meeting Like This.

Lance was hooked up to so many wires he looked half-robot. His messy hair was wrapped in a white bandage to cover up the surgery leftovers. When Keith walked in, he immediately lit up. With a broken smile and a hoarse voice, he reached out to him with an unsteady arm.

"Hey." His eyes stayed half-open and his arm faltered.

Keith quickly took his hand and sat down in the chair next to him. He rested his forehead on the back of Lance's hand as he held back tears. Keith wanted to show strength, but the sight of Lance in the hospital broke him down.

Lance smiled at him, "You look like shit."

A laugh rose in Keith's chest, "Me? Look at you."

His eyes trailed the various wires and beeping machines, "It looks a lot worse than it is."

"I will leave you boys alone." Lance's father stood in the open doorway, hand on the door.

"Thank you, Papi."

He gave them a quick smile, then shut the large door. Lance brought his hand up to Keith's cheek, "How long have you been here?"

Keith placed his hand on top of Lance's, "Since three a.m."

His face contorted into a mix of worry and regret, "I'm sorry." He raised his other wrist to rub his eye. "You've got to be so exhausted." A small sob exited his lungs and he sniffled.

Keith's eyes widened in shock. He jumped up and held Lance's face in his hands. "No baby, don't cry. This is not your fault."

Lance looked at Keith with shimmering dusty blue eyes. They held an immense amount of power and strength. One look from Lance could make Keith do anything. His face scrunched up as he cried, "But I could've died! I could've been paralyzed! You—you don't—you don't deserve that!" Keith carefully wrapped a hand around Lance's head and brought it to his chest. "I'm a ticking time bomb. One day I'm gonna hurt you and leave you all alone." Lance's weak arms latched onto his back as if he was his savior. Like he was begging for him to save him from this hell.

Keith let Lance cry into his shirt for a minute as he pet his messy hair. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he pulled back to rest their foreheads together. "Lance, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." He used his thumb to wipe a tear. "None of this is your fault."

Lance caught his breath with strained lungs. Their eyes stayed locked, shaking with mutual tears. Lance slowly removed a hand from Keith's shirt and brushed his fingertips over Keith's lips. His voice was a heartbreaking whisper, "Why are you still here?"

Keith's face softened into a smile. Why was he still there? What kind of question is that? Lance meant the world to him—that was obvious. If he didn't, Keith would've ran long ago. He gently took Lance's fingers away from his mouth, "Because I love you."

Lance's breath hitched and his ocean eyes widened. His mouth opened a few times, but he couldn't find any words. He stared at Keith for what seemed like a solid hour. Then, he finally leaned into a kiss. Keith held his face in his hands and kissed him deeply, taking in every second he could. Lance's mouth rose into a smile and a giggle escaped from his throat. He broke the kiss to choke out a laugh, "That's a horrible decision, really."

Keith happily stroked his cheek, "We've gotta stop meeting like this." He raised an eyebrow, "Your family might see us."

Lance slapped his arm and grabbed his shirt to pull him down into another kiss.

They laughed together for a while until Lance eventually choked out an 'ow' and stopped. Keith sat back down in the chair and leaned his cheek onto the bed. He intertwined his fingers with Lance's to gain their warmth. His eyes were sore and heavy from the stressful night. Both his body and mind were relaxed at the presence of an okay Lance.

Lance smiled down at him, "Just sleep. You look so tired."

Keith closed his eyes and took a deep relaxed breath, "Okay"


	10. God, You Could Take A Knife To All This Sexual Tension.

"You want to what?"

Lance and Keith sat across from Lance's parents in their living room. Lance wore a pink sweater and shorts with white cat tights. He repeated himself—slower this time. "We are going on a road trip." He quickly brought up his hands in defense, jingling his Pandora bracelet. "But it's only gonna be for a little while. And we are going to be careful."

Lance's mother shook her head, "No—just—no. It's too dangerous, m'ijo!"

"Mama," he took a breath, "it won't be long."

"What if you get a crisis? What then?" She shot angry caramel glares at Keith.

"Then, we go to the hospital. Just like we do here."

She turned to Lance's father, "You see? He's filling my boy's head with dangerous ideas!"

Lance's father raised a hand to shush her, "Let them talk. Don't make assumptions."

"Thank you." Lance laced his fingers together and held onto his crossed legs. "Keith is taking me to some really cool places. We are going to have fun seeing a lot of cool stuff!" He tried to keep his voice upbeat.

"Where will you go?" Lance's mother didn't soften her voice.

"That's—" both Keith and Lance started to talk, then stopped. Lance continued, "That's a secret. It's a surprise for me."

Lance's father gave them a smile, "That sounds really fun."

The positive reaction energized Lance, "Yeah! I'm really excited, and I wanna go!" He talked with his hands as he explained, "We are gonna leave tomorrow. Tonight I'm staying at Keith's and we will leave from there."

"I do not like this, m'ijo." His mother dropped her intense gaze.

Lance knew she was trying to gain pity, and he was done with her attitude. "Mama, I'm an adult. I'm twenty years old and I'm going on the road trip."

She widened her eyes in anger and stood from the couch, "I am your mother!"

Lance stood up to look down on her, "And I'm your son! Don't you want me to be happy?"

She threw her hands up in frustration, "Do what you want, but I do not support this."

Lance watched her walk out with frustrated arm movements, "Mama!"

"M'ijo," Lance's father gained Lance's attention. "I hope you have fun." He gave him a smile and got up. "Don't worry about your mother, I will take care of it."

"Papi." Lance giggled and gave him a big hug. "Thank you!"

Lance said goodbye to his siblings and left a note for his mother. Andy was the only one that showed major apprehension to the trip. Lance assured him that he would be fine and would return soon. Shiro was working that night, and Keith had informed him about their plans a week prior. Lance stuffed his extra suitcase into Keith's car and joined him inside his house.

When he walked in the door, he heard Keith call to him from the kitchen. "Hey Lance! What do you want for dinner?"

Lance started toward the kitchen and muttered a giggle under his breath. "You." He slipped into view and hung on the doorframe. "Whatcha got?"

Keith motioned to his fridge and pantry, "Knock yourself out."

Lance popped his lips and opened his cabinets to search. Keith had a lot of choices, but Lance decided on mundane cereal. He jumped up to sit on the counter as he munched on his food. It was rare for him to have an appetite, but the excitement of the trip brought it back. He watched Keith cook himself something with a curious head tilt.

"Eggs?" Lance questioned his food choice with judgmental eyes.

"I think your cereal has put me in a breakfast mood." He pointed at him with an oily spatula, "This is your fault."

"Hmm, okay." Lance drank the rest of the milk from the bowl and jumped down from the counter to place it in the sink. After cleaning up, he decided to walk up to Keith and hug him from behind. There was always comforting warmth in his body and his dark clothes smelled like the sun they attracted.

"You enjoying yourself?" Keith laughed at his behavior without pushing him away.

Lance spoke into his sweater, "Yes."

"Well, I'm gonna eat this. Do you shower in the morning or at night?"

Lance leaned his cheek into his back, "In the morning."

Keith's chest resonated with his signature deep laugh, "Alright."

After he ate, Keith taught Lance to play his favorite video game in his room. It took a few tries to get it working. Keith sat on the floor as Lance lied on his bed next to him. Lance knew he was bad, but he won every time. After winning for the third time, he huffed and motioned to the screen. "You're letting me win!"

Keith sarcastically replied with a laugh, "No, of course not."

"Play me for real!"

"Nah."

"Nah?"

Keith eyed him with a silly smile, "Nah, you look like a baby."

"I'm not a baby! Try me!"

"Nah, I'm tired now." Keith set down his controller.

Lance hung his head upside down off the bed and mocked him, "Who's the baby now?" He stuck his tongue out at him as he put the game away.

After Keith set the controllers on their chargers, he gave Lance a quick kiss as he watched him. Lance laughed at his cute behavior and got off his bed. He stumbled out of dizziness when he stood up, bracing himself in Keith's arms. When it passed he realized the situation he was in. He slowly lifted his head to look up at Keith's eyes.

Keith furrowed his brows and watched Lance curiously. They stared at each other for a few moments of tense silence. Lance gradually felt his face grow hot and his chest thump. "Uh, um—!" he stood up on his own, "Thank you."

Keith rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze. "Yeah, no problem."

They stood in awkward silence for a few seconds. Lance raised his arms and dramatically talked with them, "Oh, it's really late. I guess I should, uh..." he trailed off.

Keith shifted his weight, "Yeah, yeah. That's—uh—right."

Lance let out an embarrassed laugh and started toward the door, "So I will, just, go to my spot." He stumbled over something on the floor, "On—uh—the couch."

Keith gave him a nod, his flushed cheeks glowed in the artificial light. "Yeah, goodnight."

Lance clicked his teeth and opened the door, "Yeah. Goodnight."

He scolded himself when he closed the door. "Oh my god, I'm such an idiot." He slapped his forehead and headed down the hall. "Oh yeah, Keith, I will just leave now," he mocked himself with his hands. He covered his blushing face, "So fucking stupid."


	11. How Long Can I Make These Titles Before Wattpad Tells Me To Fuck Off?

Lance watched the hills of color spin around through his window. The sky was a whitewashed blue, and there wasn't a cloud in sight. A smile warmed his face as he tasted the freedom he never had. He had finally done what he wanted. No rules.

"What are you thinking about?" Keith's voice filled the cozy car.

Lance audibly sighed and turned to face him, "What do you mean?"

"You just look really interested in something." Keith wore a white tank top that hung from his body. A red beanie sat on his head, causing his shiny black hair to curl around it. His eyes were dark, but they had a glow to them.

"What are you doing?"

Lance didn't realize he had leaned over the middle console while he stared. As embarrassing as it was, he decided to play it off. "I'm looking at your eyes."

His smile dropped. He kept his gaze on the road. "Why are you doing that?"

Lance leaned up and kissed his cheek, then pulled away to sit in his seat. "Cuz' they're pretty," he said in a singsong voice. Keith's cheeks gave off a faint red tint. Lance high-fived himself in his head. Nice one, Lance.

Keith had been so eager to touch him before; but now it seemed like every time Lance got close, he seemed to get really flustered. Lance wasn't an expert on the whole "sex" thing, but he was pretty sure that was it. He didn't blame him, though. Even Lance himself was apprehensive about it. Maybe Keith didn't want to have sex with him?

...No. That couldn't be it. Even if he knew it wasn't the problem, Lance couldn't keep his mind from wandering. What if he was repulsed by it? Was it the AIDS? Or the Sickle Cell? Either one can cause problems on their own, but when they're combined things get complicated. Maybe Keith doesn't want to touch him out of fear and repulsion.

"Well, now you look sad."

Lance was sucked out of his thoughts by a snarky Keith. He gave Lance's thigh a light squeeze, "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

Lance opened his mouth without thinking and almost told him, but quickly shut it and chose his words. "Nothin'. Just watching out the window."

"Sure." Keith returned to his driving.

"You know," Lance started, leaning on his elbow. "When I was a kid, I always dreamt of leaving. Just—leaving." He used a hand to emphasize. "I would lie in bed and listen to music, only to dream of watching out the window of a car or train or plane. Sometimes," he let out a somber chuckle, "I would just fly up to the sky and stand on the blue, then I would look up to see the world above me. It—it was like I was free, but not really."

He could feel Keith's gaze burn into his skin. "Lance?"

He turned to face him, "What?"

"You're crying."

Lance reached up to touch his face. Much to his surprise, his finger came back damp. He wiped his cheeks with his sleeve, shaking his head into the fabric.

Keith held up a hand, "No, you can't just—" He stopped with a sigh and pulled off the highway into a random parking lot. Lance watched him put the car into park and get out.

More tears fell onto Lance's sleeves, darkening the fabric with freckles of somber halos. His door opened and a neutral Keith motioned him out. "Here, come here."

Lance hesitantly stood up and got out of the car. When he gained his footing, Keith wrapped his arms around Lance's shoulders and held him tightly. Lance slowly brought his hands up and latched onto his back as he shushed him and pet his hair. His deep cello voice calmed his shaken and confused body. "You're gonna be okay."

Still anxious, Lance let his eyes drift around and become aware of his surroundings. The parking lot happened to belong to an abandoned gas station. Rust and graffiti covered the walls and broken-down pumps. Unlike the lush hills Lance had seen from the highway, the ground was barren and dusted his shoes with beige powder. It was like time was distorted a little bit. A bubble of an alternate universe where it was only them. It wasn't a bad thing, though. Maybe for just a moment, Lance didn't have to be sick. He could just be Lance.

Keith pulled back and wiped Lance's cheeks with his thumbs, "Are you alright?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I think I'm fine." He turned to scan the area once more. "More importantly, look at this."

Keith looked around, "It's an old gas station. What about it?"

Lance pulled away from him and walked up to the large glass window on the side of the building. Blue spray paint spelt out cunt along the glass. A crack cut the word in half, separating the top from the bottom by half an inch. Lance let his fingertips glide over it as he made out the little deformities in the paint. His chest glowed with warmth as a wide smile painted itself across his flushed cheeks, "It's so beautiful."

Keith furrowed his brows in confusion and stepped up behind him. "Uh, I guess?"

Lance whipped around, grabbed his wrist, and lead him to the back of the tiny building. Graffitied over the white brick was a colorful You Are Free*. He skidded to a stop and planted his fists on his waist. Lance looked at the paint, then Keith's unamused face. The paint. His unchanged face. Finally, Lance groaned and took his hand, "Just feel."

He brought Keith's hand up to rest his palm against the wall. Then, he inspected the picture with his own fingertips. His tongue scratched his teeth like an old radio as his mouth opened and he began to speak. "Someone was here." He tapped the brick with his index finger. "They stood in this spot and took the time to paint this." His boots scraped the gravel when took a few steps back to admire the whole piece. "You see, people like to leave their mark on the world. Their souls yearn to be remembered in some way—even if it's by the word cunt spray painted on the cracked window of an abandoned gas station."


	12. It's 80 Characters. That's How Long.

Lance sat with his back against the car door and his kitten-socked feet in Keith's lap. "So," he dragged out the word with pursed lips, "Where exactly are you taking me?"

Keith's mouth immediately curled into a husky smirk, "Just a few places." He massaged Lance's calf with one hand and drove with the other.

"Like?" Lance scrunched his face up. "Like the White House? Washington Monument? Statue of Liberty?" He playfully leaned forward, bracing with his hands.

Keith gave him a sarcastic look of confusion, "What?" He returned his eyes to the road and switched lanes. "No. You can see those in any old movie. Too cliché."

Lance squinted at him, "So, then where?"

A glint of mischief flashed in his suave violet eyes. Keith patted his leg, "Did you pack everything I told you to?"

He nodded, "Yeah, that's why I'm asking. I mean," he listed the items using his fingers, "A swimsuit, hiking boots, my dress and heels, a copy of Me Before You, body glitter, a tiara, and my passport." He dropped his hands in bewilderment, "What the fuck are you planning?"

Keith laughed at his confusion, "Well, we left at two a.m. and have been driving for thirteen hours."

"Yeah?"

"Our first stop will be in five hours." He patted his thigh.

Lance groaned, "I've never been in a car this long! Where even are we?!"

Keith gave him a loving smile, "It won't be much longer. And we're in Florida."

Lance stared at him for a moment, letting his eyes drift down. He hummed to himself, then pushed on the inside of Keith's thigh with the balls of his feet.

Keith furrowed his brows, taking a quick look down at Lance's feet. "What—uh—what are you doing?"

"I'm bored."

"So...?"

"So I'm messing with you." Lance finally looked at Keith's face to find a tint of pink framing his cheeks. His chest jumped a little in embarrassment, and he pulled his legs back to his side of the car. "Alright, I'll stop."

Lance didn't realize he fell asleep until Keith tapped him awake with a drawn-out whisper. "Hey Lance, we're almost there."

Lance's cheek stuck to the window as he lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. "Where are we no—oh my god."

From the car window, Lance could see tall buildings that sparkled in the orange sunset. Palm trees swayed in the wind and every person was in beach wear. "Keith, this is—wow, this is amazing." He tore his eyes away from the view to look at him, "Where are we?"

Keith pointed out the windshield, "That is Miami, Florida."

"Wow," Lance admired the view. "So, where's the first stop, then?"

"If you look past these buildings and toward the coast, you will find our destination."

Lance turned to flash him a confident look, "You're so mysterious."

He shrugged, "It's fun to mess with you."

Lance slapped his shoulder, "So mean."

Keith pulled up to a tall building—one large circular part, then two shorter square parts on either side of it. They were greeted by a valet, who Keith talked to while Lance stood in awe. They were right on the coast; umbrellas and uniform white chairs dotted the sand. Keith finished talking and held his elbow out for Lance. He took it and was led inside.

Cream and dark brown couches and chairs sat around complimentary coffee tables. A lady in a tight black dress and white handbag adjusted her glasses and clicked past them. Lance followed Keith up to a petite desk with two staff members. Lance leaned toward Keith, hiding in his shoulder. "Keith what about our—"

"The bellhop got them." He stepped up to the counter after a woman in an ugly floral shirt walked off.

The lady at the desk had curly, shoulder-length, brown hair and red lipstick. She smiled widely, "Welcome to the St. Regis Bal Harbour Resort! How may I help you?"

Keith stepped up and talked to her as Lance scanned the room, keeping his fist wrapped in Keith's shirt sleeve. After a moment, a man greeted himself and showed them to the private elevator. Keith kept his arm around Lance's shoulder as they walked to their room.

Lance had calmed with the protective actions he was covered with and entered the room excitedly. His jaw dropped as soon as he entered, immediately surprised at the view. He was greeted with a large wall of glass that opened to a balcony. From the balcony he could see the shimmering of the blue waves on the beach. A pair of arms wrapped around his waist, "Do you like it?"

Lance turned around in his hold to face him, "This is amazing! How much was this room, it's huge! And the ocean is just beautiful, and—!"

Keith cut him off with a deep kiss. Lance let himself relax and hug his arms around his neck. Keith broke off the kiss and leaned their foreheads together, "Just enjoy it. This is the presidential suite, so it's got the best service."

"It's just so," he scoffed, "unbelievable."

"Here," Keith stepped back to point at the various areas. "It's got these little kitchen things, and a private balcony, and—" he motioned to either side of the room, "On each side, there's a room with a walk-in closet and full bath."

Lance's chest ached a little at the thought of being separated again. "Two rooms?"

"Yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck and kicked his foot out, "but the window wraps along the entire wall, so you get the view of the ocean in the bedrooms, too."

Lance forced a smile, "That's really nice."

Keith clapped his hands into a ball, "Well, I'll order some room service and you get comfy. Tomorrow, we're going to our first place—and you'll be using that tiara there."

Lance threw his hands up in confusion as he watched Keith retrieve their suitcases from the entryway. "What the hell do I need the tiara for?!"

"You'll see," he handed Lance his bag and purple suitcase.

Lance took it and brought it to his side of the suite. After taking a shower and pampering his skin, he put on grey sweatpants and a baggy white t-shirt. When he exited his side, he found Keith sitting at the glass table by the window. Two plates of food were set up. Lance sat down next to him and took his medication, then nibbled at the dish as he admired the nighttime water. 

"You love the beach, don't you," Keith questioned.

Lance closed his eyes softly, "Yeah. It reminds me of home."

"Houston?" He raised an eyebrow.

Lance shook his head, "No, Cuba." He set down his fork and stared back out the window. His muddy head was still processing the situation. The sound of Keith shuffling caught his attention. 

Keith reached over and brushed the hair from his eyes, letting his hand linger on his cheek. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment in stunned silence. After what felt like forever, Lance stood and moved over to Keith's chair, sitting backwards to face him. Their lips barely touched, but every connection brought a spark of electricity to Lance's body. His strong thighs cradled his body as his large hands spread out over his back.

He wanted to kiss him, he really did. But if they kissed, it wouldn't stop there. Lance wasn't sure what Keith wanted and he didn't want to blow it. He retreated and chuckled out of embarrassment, stepping off him. "I should—uh, I should get to bed. It's pretty late."

Keith's face went red, "Yeah, me too." He stood with a dramatic huff, "We've got plans tomorrow."

Lance nodded and continued to stare into his eyes, "Yeah."

They stood in silence for a second, then stumbled toward their respective sides with flustered mumbles. When Lance reached his room door, he turned to look at him over his shoulder, "Goodnight, Keith."

Keith responded with a small bow, and started toward the other side of the suite.

Lance watched him until his door closed and he couldn't feel his footsteps anymore. When he was out of view, he banged his forehead on the doorframe. "Oh my god, I'm so stupid."


	13. You're In My Castle Now, Bitch.

"Lance~"

Lance was pulled from his sleep by Keith's singsong voice. He opened his eyes slightly and stretched his arms up. "Good morning."

Keith leaned down and kissed him, "Good morning."

Lance looked at him for a second, then the room to process his surroundings. It took him a moment to remember where he was. When he did, he stared at Keith with playful eyes.

He gave him a confused chuckle, "What?"

In one swift motion, Lance wrapped his arms around Keith's neck and pulled him into the sea of fluffy bedding. He laughed and let go when Keith was successfully lying beside him. Sunlight lit up the room from the large window, casting a healthy glow onto Keith's skin.

"Now, why'd you go and do that?"

Lance smiled at him from his pillow. "Because I missed you."

Keith's face softened and he lifted a hand up to Lance's cheek. His eyes drifted up above his face, "Your hair is so cute."

"What?"

"You have bedhead and it's adorable."

Lance shot up attempted to smooth his hair down as Keith laughed at him. "It's not funny!"

Keith sat up and wrapped his arms around him. "Take your shower, get dressed, and don't forget your tiara. The drive is only an hour."

Lance got up from the bed and walked toward the hall to the bathroom. Before he exited, he paused and turned back to look at Keith—who was still wrapped in the blanket. "You're not gonna join me?"

Keith's face dropped and he blushed wildly, "I—uh—"

Lance laughed at his embarrassment, "I'm just joking!" He walked out, "You're so cute!"

Lance insisted they get Starbucks for breakfast, so Keith stopped on the way. Lance kicked off his cat-freckled light boots and slid his pink socks onto Keith's lap. Keith picked his outfit—white thigh-highs, powder blue high waisted shorts, and a baby pink Hello Kitty shirt. He picked at his chocolate croissant as he adjusted the radio. Keith rubbed his calf, "You wanna help me out?"

Lance tore off a piece of his pastry and fed it to him. "So," he licked the chocolate from his thumb, "can you tell me where we are going now?"

"Just be patient." He flashed him a bright smile. He had his hair up in a ponytail and sunglasses sat on his head. His black t-shirt framed his shoulders perfectly. "It's only twenty more minutes."

Lance eyed the stone sign that welcomed them. You will be seeing unusual accomplishment. The sun shone down on them, but Lance didn't mind it too much. The sky was cloudy, so he wasn't always in the heat. A stone doorway labeled Entrance directed them in. To compliment it, a short stone wall looped around the grounds. The entirety of it was open to the Florida air. "Keith," he raised an eyebrow, "what is this?"

He leaned over and pulled him by the hand, "Coral Castle." He laughed as he led him by the wrist, "Come on!"

The first thing Lance noticed when he stepped in was a large stone crescent moon. It sat higher than the rest of the rock furniture. Various small "gardens" were framed in by stone pockets; the rest of the floor was a red dirt. Lance found it cute how excited Keith was for him to see it. He pulled him along to a medium-sized stone toward the back. Lance pulled his hand away to cover his smiling mouth, "Aww! It's a little heart!"

Keith patted the point of it, "Come sit."

A large plant sat on top of it, so Lance had to sit right on the edge. Keith held the tiara up to his chest and stood back to admire Lance. "Do you know what this one is called?"

It took him a second to realize he expected an answer. Lance shook his head.

Keith leaned forward slightly for emphasis, "Feast of Love Table." He shook his head in excitement, "Ain't that cute as hell?"

Lance held on to the sides with his hands and leaned toward him, "Sounds like a euphemism for sex."

Keith pointed at him, moving the tiara to one hand. "Exactly." He laughed to collect himself, then walked forward. "Now we are in a castle, but," he stoically placed the crown on Lance's head, "It needed a King."

A smile lit up his face and a laugh escaped his chest, "Oh my god, you are so cheesy!" Lance jumped up and brought his arms around Keith's neck, "But I love it."

Keith rested his hands on Lance's hips and kissed him sweetly. They didn't stay that way very long, as a few kids laughed and gagged at them. Lance pulled away to giggle at the children, then took Keith's hand. "Show me around the castle, my Prince."


	14. I Feel Like I'm Naming Fall Out Boy Songs

Lance spent the next day enjoying the hotel's spa. He begged Keith to join him, but he refused and hung out in the fitness center instead to protect his fragile masculinity. At the end of the day, they got smoothies and walked down the beach to watch the sunset. And at night, they shared another awkward goodnight.

Early the next day, they officially left the hotel and got back on the road. Keith told him it would take about fourteen hours to get there. Lance slept for most of it, but when he was awake he blasted the radio and sang along with Beyoncé-level dramatics. Keith watched him with loving eyes the entire time, no matter what he did. Lance even fought his way into playing Little Swing three times straight.

"Hey, look." Keith pulled onto a gravel road after he stopped for something, "We're almost there."

Lance looked out the window to find only trees and tall grass. "Am I—" he watched the trees frame the road, "Am I missing something?"

Keith reached over to pat his thigh, "You're so impatient. Just touch-up your makeup and make sure you're in comfortable clothes that you wouldn't mind getting wet."

"Getting wet?!"

Keith pulled out his phone and shushed him, "I have to make a call."

Lance rolled his eyes and watched the road. It looked as if they were just driving through a forest in the middle of nowhere. When he heard Keith speak, he turned his head to watch his mouth.

Keith nodded, "Yeah we're maybe five minutes out. Are you all ready?" He paused for an answer. "Alright, that's great. We will be there very soon. Thank you so much for doing this." Another pause. "Alright, see ya then."

Lance raised an eyebrow and stared at him with a questioning look. Keith noticed him after a few seconds, "What?"

"Who was that?"

He reached over to grab Lance's hand and intertwine their fingers. "Just someone to assist me."

Lance leaned over the middle console to kiss his cheek, "Alright, now I'm excited."

"Oh," Keith let go of his hand to point at the back seat, "At this stop, you're gonna need that body glitter."

Lance huffed and retrieved the container from his bag, "Now, why the hell do I need this?" He held it up in confusion.

"You'll see." Keith held out his hand and Lance gave the glitter to him. "We're here."

They pulled into a small gravel parking lot. A blanket of still, dark blue covered the ground, surrounded by a gate of trees. A wooden dock held a stocky man with a boat. Keith turned the car off and stepped out, "Come on."

Lance hesitantly exited the car, watching Keith walk up to the man and give him a friendly handshake-hug. Lance shut the car door and joined them by the water. Keith threw an arm over his shoulder, "And this is Lance."

"Oh," the guy was young, maybe twenty-five. He spoke in an Australian accent and had short, dark brown hair. He leaned against the wooden railing, "The lucky guy."

Keith's face lit up with a smile, "Yeah, he's mine."

"Well," he nodded to Lance, "My name's Julian." He turned back to Keith, "Should we get going?"

"Yeah," Keith pulled out the container of body glitter and stood in front of Lance. "Hold still, baby."

He twisted the cap off and swiped his finger across the gel. He focused on his technique as he applied it to Lance's cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, and on the point of his Cupid's bow. Lance tried to stay as still as possible, but Keith did this thing where he pulled his lips back between his teeth when he focused, and it made Lance's chest warm up. He couldn't help but smile.

"Alright," Keith finished and scraped the excess glitter back in the jar. He jogged back to the car and tossed it into the back seat without much care where it landed. He trotted back to Lance and led him over to the boat. Julian sat in the back and Keith in the middle.

Keith held a hand out for Lance like a stoic prince, "Come with me?"

Lance's mouth forced itself into a wide smile; he took Keith's hand and stepped in the boat. It was small and had to be rowed by someone. Lance sat in the front, facing Keith. Julian pushed away from the dock, "Alright, onto the magical land of Lake Drummond."

Lance held Keith's hands as they moved along the lake. He pointed to the sparkles on his face with a manicured finger, "Are you gonna tell me when this is about?"

Keith smiled at him with those grey-purple eyes of intense emotion. He pointed behind him without saying a word. Lance gave him a strange look and hesitantly turned around. His worry quickly melted away and was immediately replaced by wonder. Huge trees reached out of the water and formed a canopy of sun-kissed green. The water was a mirror and lied completely still, causing every movement of the boat to spread ripples along the surface. That alone was stunning, but there was a hidden treasure. At the base of the trees, where they emerged from the water, the trunks looked as if they had melted down from the sky. Instead of being smooth, they branched out. Some looked like long ball gowns; others could be mistaken as sea monsters in the dark. Lance's breath was whisked away with the light breeze. He turned back to Keith for an explanation. Keith reached out and held his chin with his thumb.

"You're the fairy of The Great Dismal Swamp."

Lance's eyes welled up and a tear fell down his cheek. He laughed at himself and dried his face with his sleeve. Turning back around, he gazed at the captivating scenery. Truly the most beautiful thing he'd seen in a long time. He reached a hand down and let his fingers glide through the chilled water, breaking up the perfect surface. "This is so much more than I could ever ask for."

Keith reached down and placed his hand in the water beside Lance's. "The trip's not over yet, so you better prepare yourself."

Lance let out a content sob and a couple tears fell, joining their friends in the lake. "You," he lifted his head to study the trees once more, then locked eyes with the grinning Keith. "You are so more than I could ever ask for."


	15. Would You Fuck Someone In A Library?

Lance watched Keith through the phone screen. "Come on, you're not looking! I wanna take a picture together."

"Do you want me to crash this car?"

"Just one look!"

Keith turned his head toward him for a second as he took the picture. Cat ears and glitter stickers decorated their faces. Lance lowered his phone down and inspected it with a satisfied smile. He leaned over to quickly kiss Keith's cheek, "Thank you, babe."

Keith didn't respond, only smiled. A bright aura emitted from his darkened figure. As he drove, the sun filtered through his hair and irritated his eyes. In the natural light, Lance could make out the imperfections in his skin: his nose was dotted with blackheads, puffiness surrounded his eyes, his eyebrows were unruly and reached toward each other. It wasn't surprising with how adamantly he refused hanging out in the spa.

Lance's eyes traced the lines of Keith's face. Every feature was molded in harmony; Lance fell in love with every curve and every scar. His cheeks tinted red as he leaned over the console to wrap his arms around Keith's neck. "Babe," he chimed and bent his elbows to ruffle his hair. "Babe." He brought one hand down over his left eye and traced the bridge of his nose. "Babe," he drew it out in a long whine. He nuzzled his forehead into Keith's shoulder, "Ba-"

"Oh my god, what?!"

Lance paused for dramatic effect, taking Keith's head in his hands. "Your face is like a god's art project."

Keith's face scrunched up in confusion, as if he was registering what the fuck he just said. He shot a couple glances over at him out of the corner of his eyes. "Are you drunk?"

Lance's eyes drifted in thought, "I might be a little high off my meds."

"Of course you are," he let out a snarky laugh. Lance played with Keith's ear as he inspected his face. Keith kept checking on him with quick glances, "I—uh—I don't know how to handle you right now."

"Oh," Lance giggled, "it'll wear off in a little bit."

Keith picked up his phone to look at the screen, "Okay, we're gonna be stoppin' in about an hour, so" he returned the phone to the cup holder, "try not to kill us before we get there."

"Okay," Lance dragged his reply out and ended it with a drunk snicker. Plopping back down in his seat, he continue his dramatics. "Hey, you are, like, major difficult with the whole," he motioned with flamboyant hands, "thing."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Lance brought his legs up to rest on the dashboard, "With the relationship thing." He leaned his tilted head toward him in thought, "I never know what you're thinking."

Keith raised an eyebrow, "I think you should stop before you say something you don't want to."

Lance rubbed the windshield with his foot, "Yeah, you're probably right."

Keith leaned over and pat his thigh, "Just get some sleep while it wears off."

Lance dropped his hands in frustration, "See, like that!"

"What?!" Keith's voice sounded angry, but his face looked amused.

He leaned his seat back and closed his eyes, "You make it hard to not touch you." And he quickly drifted off to sleep in the silence that followed.

Keith shook him awake, "Lance we're here."

"Hm? Oh." Lance had grown accustomed to waking up in the car. His body reacted out of mundane habit as he stretched and stepped out of the car. To his surprise, he was immediately greeted by a wave of the late sun and rush hour traffic noises. They were in a parking garage lit up by artificial yellow light. "Keith?"

Keith retrieved the suitcases from the car with a strained grunt, "Yeah?"

"Where are we?" Lance turned around to scan the area. It was evening, but he could hear the city bustling with activity.

Keith smirked and shut the trunk of the car, "Keep the book close, you'll need it here."

"Okay," he reached into the back seat to retrieve his backpack. He pulled out the copy of Me Before You, "But where are we?"

Keith held out a hand for him and motioned to the luggage. "New York City."

Keith led Lance into a building with a cozy lobby. Beside the front desk was a wall of books; beside that was a little reading nook with two chairs on each side and a painting above a matching couch. Keith took care of the talking like he usually did and they went up to their room.

It was petite and cozy; windows displayed the view of the city from the top floor. A large desk with a small bookshelf and vase of red flowers sat along the opposite wall. Lance loved every bit of it, but there was a small issue. In the middle of the room, under three decor frames, lied a king-sized bed. One king-sized bed. Lance inspected the space, but it only held the pretty bedroom and an elegant bathroom off to the side.

Keith tossed his bag onto the bed, "You like it?"

His face lit up with a smile, "I love it." The thing he loved most about it was how much he knew they were going to be forced to be around each other, but he would never tell Keith that.

Keith took Lance's suitcase from him to put it on the bed beside his own, "This place is called The Library Hotel." He motioned to the room, "This is the Mythology Room." He pointed to the book in Lance's hand, "I told you to pack your favorite love story, and you did. This is where that comes into play."

Lance inspected the book, watching the light glare across the shiny covers, "And how exactly?"

Keith sat down in the small armchair next to the bathroom doorway. He motioned for Lance to join him with a stoic hand, "Come here."

Lance giggled and sat down in his lap, wrapping one arm around his neck and dangling his feet over the armrest. Keith moved the hair away from his eyes and cupped his cheek, "You'll see tomorrow."

Lance groaned and rolled his eyes, "I'm tired of waiting."

When he tried to stand, Keith latched onto his waist and held him down. Between their laughing and playful insults, they wrestled in the tiny armchair. Eventually, Lance held his hands up in surrender and begged for mercy.

Keith laughed and kissed his forehead before returning to unpacking. Lance took a shower first and put on the robe and slippers. When he was successfully comfortable, he retrieved his bag of beauty products and started his skin care routine. Every few seconds, he would watch Keith in the room through the bathroom mirror. He maintained a content grin on his face as he walked about the room to get settled in. Lance was opening his moisturizer when he walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Lance stood there in an stunned panic, unsure if he should leave or just pretend Keith wasn't taking off his shirt right in front of him. Eventually, he couldn't resist letting his eyes drift over and admire Keith's skin anymore.

Keith's back was muscular and his shoulder blades were chiseled from his body. Lance thought his skin was much too light for someone who had lived in Texas their whole life, but he didn't mind it. His hair framed his neck and tapped his shoulders as it clung to the fabric of his shirt collar. Lance was kicked from his daze when Keith started to unbuckle his jeans. He quickly turned his blushing face away and shielded his eyes until he heard the shower curtain open and then close. He struggled to hurry up and finish so he could leave and shut the door. Embarrassment had replaced the wonder in his veins—one he had never had to deal with.


	16. When Did Things Get So Calm?

Lance's heart thumped against his rib cage screaming to be let out of its confines. He curled himself tighter in the blankets and kept his eyes on the wall to try to act nonchalant. Keith lied behind him facing the opposite direction. Lance couldn't help but feel nervous in this situation. Keith was his first _everything_ —his first kiss, his first date, his first love. Now they were in the same bed. How was he supposed to act? Were they supposed to just lie there? Were they supposed to cuddle? Did Keith expect them to have sex? Did Keith even want to have sex with Lance?

"You know," Keith's voice was low and tired, "I can feel your anxiety all the way over here."

Lance covered his nose with the blanket, "I'm sorry."

He chuckled, shuffling the blankets with the rough movements. "Hey."

"What?"

"Look at me."

Lance's head spun and his face reddened. He hesitatingly complied and turned himself around, keeping as far away as he could. "What?"

Keith's eyes glowed in the dark and looked right through him. He lifted a hand and stroked Lance's cheek with his fingertips. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

He closed his eyes to soak up the affection. After taking a calming deep breath, he opened them. "I don't know how to do this."

Keith let his hand drop back down to the bed, "Do what?"

"This." He motioned to both of them with his finger. "The relationship thing. I don't know what I'm supposed to do right now."

Keith's face softened, "What do you want to do?"

Lance shrugged and bit his lip to keep himself sane, but his face gave everything away. He couldn't hide anything from him, and they both knew it. They both knew Lance's "I don't know" shrug was more like a "I don't have any fucking clue what I'm doing and I need help" kind of gesture.

With a gentle smile, Keith laced an arm around Lance's waist to pull him closer. "Well, we don't have to do anything you don't want to. But," he wrapped his other hand around Lance's head and brought it to his bicep, "it's really cold over there all by myself."

Lance still wasn't sure how it went, but what he did know was that he liked Keith next to him. He liked Keith holding him. He liked it when Keith's arms protected him from the outside world—and equally from himself. It was similar to the feeling he had at the abandoned gas station but different. It was like the one place he truly felt healthy was in Keith's arms. He closed his eyes and nuzzled into his chest, "Yeah, I'm cold, too."

"Alright, grab your book and that blanket." Keith pointed to his suitcase as he scrambled to gather everything for the day.

Lance slipped on his beige cardigan and cat boots. His black floral skirt and pink sweater framed his body perfectly. "Where are we going?"

Keith stopped rushing and leaned over to kiss his cheek, "To the next stop." He took his hand and led Lance down through the hotel.

Lance hugged the book to his chest as they walked through the building. As much as he wanted to, he still didn't have the carefree attitude Keith had to PDA. Now, not only were they staring at Lance's choice of fashion, but also the man that held his hand. "Keith, where are you taking me?"

They stepped through a door and out to the roof. Lance stopped to admire the scene. In the cozy brick was a hidden lounge. Benches and small tables were surrounded with bushes and flowerpots. The sun shone down on them and the wind blew through Lance's hair and stroked his cheeks. The busy sounds of the city could be chaotic at times, but at that time they were relaxing.

Keith walked over to one of the benches and called him over. Lance strolled over to him, taking dramatic steps and stopping on his toes. Keith leaned back against the armrest and opened his arms, "Come lay down."

Lance eyed him skeptically for a moment, then maneuvered his way onto Keith's chest. Keith curled them up in the blanket and took the book from Lance, opening it to the first page.

Lance gazed up at him, "Am I gonna get a sweet explanation now?"

Keith gave him a warm smile and kissed his hair. He lowered the book, "Whenever I see you, you always have this stressed look in your eyes. Even when you're laughing or," he laughed at himself, "or even when you're sleeping. You just- you're always tense and-" His voice trailed off in thought, then returned. "Scared. You're always scared."

Keith picked up the book again and returned to the pages, "So for today, just for a while, I don't want you to be scared. I want to read you your favorite love story and I want you to relax and listen."

Lance's chest burned with emotion. Keith was the most thoughtful person he had ever met. No one had ever treated Lance as a person- only a problem. Even his parents, who loved him dearly, always looked at him as a separate son. He wasn't their child, he was their patient. But with Keith, he was just a person. He was a living, breathing human that could feel emotions and not have to hide them.

He was Lance.

"You're the best," Lance lied his ear down onto Keith. As he read to him, his voice bounced off his rib cage and vibrated his chest. It transported him into the story and away from the harsh reality he lived in. For a few hours, Lance even forgot that he was sick.

For the first time in twenty years, Lance almost forgot to take his meds- which Keith had to remind him to do. And that was the biggest gift of all. The gift of just being able to breath without worrying if that breath would be your last.


	17. Maybe You'll See A Rainbow If You Stare Long Enough

Lance and Keith hit the road again the next day. Lance stretched his legs out with a strained yawn and turned down the radio, "Hey Keith?"

Keith took a drink of his Redbull, "Yeah?"

He leaned over the console to rest his head on Keith's shoulder, "Talk to me, I'm bored." The green landscape out the window got old the first few times he saw it. He was ready for a new adventure.

Keith wrapped an arm around his neck, "You're bored?" He took an exit off the highway, "Then how about we do something?"

Lance sat up and inspected the town as they entered. It was small and tucked away. The kind where everyone knew everything about everyone. Keith stopped at a petite ice cream shop and Lance picked out a birthday cake waffle cone; Keith got a cup of butter pecan. They brought the treats out to a little field in the country- which wasn't far from the shop. They sat on the hood of the car and admired the landscape.

The tall grass swayed back and forth with the wind. Sunlight cast a glittering shine onto them, adding to the summer ambience. A few cows stared at them from a distant fence and mooed occasionally. The car was parked in a small gravel area off a thin dirt road. Behind them were trees and brush. Lance found it pretty, but not as pretty as the places Keith took him.

A hand squeezed his thigh, "How's the ice cream?"

Lance smirked and leaned toward him, "I was actually curious how yours tastes."

"Wow," Keith brought a hand up to Lance's neck, "that was smooth."

They laughed as they leaned into a kiss. The mixture of distinct sugars was almost as sweet as the kiss itself. Lance's mouth curved into a wide smile and he giggled against Keith's mouth. They pulled away and looked into each other's eyes for a moment before Lance looked down to blush. Keith leaned back onto the windshield with his hands behind his head and stared up at the sky.

After a finishing bite of the crunchy waffle cone, Lance joined him. "See any cool pictures?"

Keith pointed up to a cloud, "Well, that kinda looks like a lion."

He squinted at it, "No it doesn't, it looks like a castle."

"Either one," he chuckled.

Lance closed his eyes to soak up the heat and fill his lungs with the scent of the countryside. The air was laced with the smell of cows, cigarettes, and dirt. _Typical._ He kept his eyes closed as he spoke, "Hey Keith?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you want to do with your life?"

He could feel Keith look down at him, "What do you mean?"

Lance sighed, "Like your purpose. What do you wanna do while you're alive?"

Keith took a long, deep breath. "Just live. Like this. With you."

Lance's chest ached and he flinched with it. He finally opened his eyes to watch the wispy clouds float across the sky. He gulped, "What about after I'm dead?"

Keith didn't answer. He just let the question fly away with the wind and burrow into the dirt. Lance was thankful he did. In all actuality, he didn't want to hear the answer. "Keith?"

"Hmm?"

His chunky, pastel pink shoes tapped the front bumper as he kicked them. "Do you think somewhere out there, there's a world where we are together and happy? Where I'm not dying and you have everything you ever wanted?"

"Maybe we have a cozy house and some kids?" He joined the fantasy.

"Two kids," Lance corrected. "What would we even name them?"

"Two boys. One would be something cool- like 'Caspian.'"

Lance laughed at the silly idea, "And the other would be something cute- like 'Ellis.'"

"You're not naming our son 'Ellis.'"

"Then you're not naming our son 'Caspian.'"

"Touché."

Keith brought his arm under Lance's head and wrapped it around his shoulders. "Maybe there's a universe where we're fighting off zombies by day and making love by night." His voice was over-exaggerated and dramatic.

Lance laughed so hard he lost his breath. "You're so cheesy." He turned to gaze into his eyes, "I'll never get used to it."

Keith kissed his head sweetly, "Do you want to go to the next place?"

The signature item of the stop: hiking boots. Lance held Keith's hand as they walked down the forest trail. It wasn't long before he felt a little tired, so he slowed to a stop. "Keith, how much further? I'm not feeling too well."

Keith immediately jumped up to him and put his hands on his cheeks. "How bad? Is it serious? Do you need to-"

Lance lightly shoved his arms off, "No, nothing like that. I'm just tired."

"Oh," he turned his back to Lance and held out his arms, "hop on."

_"A doctor?" His face lit up, "Come with me." He took a step toward the stairs, but stopped and turned back to Lance. "Here," he held his arms out with his back to him, "hop on."_

Lance smiled at the memory and jumped onto his back, "You've done this before."

Keith adjusted his hands to hold Lance's thighs up, "Done what?"

"Carry me on your back when I was hurt." He nuzzled his head into Keith's neck, "When we met."

"Oh, that." Keith's chest jerked as he laughed, "You know, you were the first person that I thought was beautiful. I noticed it when you looked up at me."

"Is that your cheesy speech for the day?"

"Yes, that's all," he joked. They walked for a couple minutes in comfortable silence, then Keith perked up, "There it is."

The sound of rushing water caught Lance's attention and he looked up to inspect his surroundings. Falling off the rocks in a gentle yet powerful fashion was a river of sparkling water. Lance jumped down from Keith's back to trot up to it.

"Come with me," Keith took his hand and led him to the base of it. That's when Lance finally understood what he wanted to show him. Behind the waterfall was a small path to walk behind it. Keith drug him behind the water and let him go to watch his reaction.

Lance was amazed, "How did you know I wanted to see this?"

Keith smirked, "I just know a few things."

Lance admired the water and breathed in the cool mist, "I'm ready."

"For what?"

"The speech."

He shook his head, "There isn't one."

Lance turned to raise an unconvinced eyebrow at him.

"I just wanted to admire you behind a waterfall- a place you wanted to see." He shrugged, "Just to fulfill your wish."

Lance turned back to the small waterfall, "Why would you do that?"

Keith wrapped his arms around Lance's waist and kissed the nape of his neck, "Just 'cuz I love you."


	18. They'll Be Fucking In This Place

The next drive was the longest so far. Keith let Lance sleep through the night while he drove the entire time; stopping periodically to let Lance stretch his legs. Lance offered to drive many times, but he refused and drank another Redbull.

When they arrived, Lance soaked up the desert landscape with outstretched arms. Palm trees and bushes of flowers decorated the cream walls and small fountain in the courtyard. Red mountains behind the buildings provided an old, western movie-type atmosphere. Even more than Texas ever did. The evening air gave off the smell of the moon and sand.

Keith took his hand as they were led to their room. Lance admired the plant-covered stone walkways, "Keith, where are we now?"

He gave Lance a sweet smile, "Royal Palms Resort in Phoenix."

Lance walked through the door of their villa, "So extra."

Keith motioned to the house with a dramatic arm, "Presidential Villa."

The private house held a castle-like aesthetic– decorated with paintings and chandeliers and large doors. Fireplaces were placed in the living room, bedroom, and on one of the four patios. The first thing Lance decided to do was blast music over the tv and prance through the halls as Keith took a smoke break.

Through Lance's dance around the house, he discovered the layout- four patios with small fountains, a generous living room with a fireplace, dining room with six chairs, a wall mirror over the sinks in the bathroom, a kitchen, and a grand bed in a bedroom with a tv and sitting chairs in front of a fireplace. After his adventure, he hung out the glass door to check on Keith– who was smoking out on the patio with a fireplace.

Lance smirked at him, "You're gonna get in trouble."

Keith looked up from his phone and gave him a smile, "I'll be fine. Did you have fun?"

"Mm-hmm." He eyed the cigarette between Keith's middle and index finger, "I would join you, but I can't."

His smile dropped, "I know, baby." He reached down to snuff it out in a small, black ashtray. "I haven't smoked in a while, but," he trailed off. "I'm trying to quit for you."

Lance ignored his gut feeling to stay away from the leftover smoke and walked over to sit on Keith's lap. He hugged his neck gently, "You don't have to do that. I'm not gonna force you."

"No, but I want to." He brought a light finger up to brush Lance's hair from his eyes, "I don't want to have to stay away from you."

Lance leaned into the touch, "Hey Keith?"

"Yeah?"

He kissed the palm of his hand, "Your breath stinks and your hands smell like tobacco. Go take a shower."

They laughed for a minute, then went back in the house. Lance read more of _Me Before You_ on the living room couch. He had started the fireplace and curled up in a blanket. After showering, Keith walked into the room with his black sweatpants on. Lance blushed a little seeing his bare chest.

Keith fluffed his hair with the white towel around his neck, "Hey Lance?"

Lance kept his eyes on the book to avoid blushing any more, "Yeah?"

"Uh, you can take the bed."

Lance finally looked up to give him a look of confusion.

"I'll sleep out here," he averted his gaze and shook his wet hair.

"Oh," Lance slowly closed the book and tossed the blanket off. "Yeah, okay." He walked toward the door.

"Tomorrow, we will leave at around two for the next stop." He spread out a blanket on the couch, "That's where you'll need your swimsuit, but I would bring some warm clothes just in case."

"Alright."

"So just enjoy the resort tomorrow."

"Okay," he left the room before Keith could say anything else.


	19. Sometimes, Stars Fall From The Sky

"Alright," Keith opened the car door and stepped out into the night air.

Lance got out of the car and gave him a skeptical look. "Is there a reason we are at a beach at night?" The smell of salt permeated the air.

Keith's hair swayed in the wind; his eyes glowed in the moonlight. "This is a special beach." He walked around the car and held out a hand.

Lance took it and laced their fingers together. He wore his swim trunks and a pink sweater, while Keith stayed in jeans and a band t-shirt. Lance watched his feet on the sand as he walked.

Keith squeezed his hand, "Look."

Lance lifted his head to see the water. The small waves glowed with blue stars. Along the shore crashed clouds of turquoise sparkles. They looked like they held their own galaxies within the waters. "Keith, what is this?"

He led Lance up to the water and waved his hand through it. The same glowing blue followed the movement. He looked up to Lance, "It's a glowing beach."

It looked like the beach had stolen the stars and brought them down to Earth. Keith stood and took Lance's hands, "I know you can't swim in it and we can't stay long, but I just wanted you to see it."

Lance scanned the glow again, "This is incredible." He shook his head in disbelief, "I didn't even know this existed."

Keith kicked off his shoes and socks then held out a hand. "Walk along the beach with me?"

With every step, the shore lit up to follow. Like blue fairy dust, it shimmered in the dark. Lance kicked up the water with an amazed laugh and watched the light.

Keith gave him a warm smile, "I brought you here because it was the closest comparison to what I see when I look in your eyes."

Lance's heart jumped and he stopped walking. His face dropped as he brought a hand to his chest. "You," he shook his head in amazement, "you are the cheesiest most spontaneous person in the world. You know that, right?"

He shrugged, "I try."

Lance opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. He stared into Keith's eyes with hope. For almost a year, they had been together. In that short time, Keith had given him a lifetime. It was so much more than Lance believed he deserved.

Lance stepped forward to nuzzle his head into the side of Keith's neck. He intertwined their fingers and took a deep breath. "I love you."

Keith's chest resonated with a chuckle, "You finally said it."

"I've said it before, just in different ways."

"You wanna kick the water around some more?"

"Yes."

They spent their time jumping into and running through the glowing blue. Keith even skipped rocks over the water to create little dots. To Lance, it had been a fairytale. The whole trip was a bedtime story. He kept waiting to wake up and be pulled back into reality, but he never did. He wanted to stay–whether or not any of it was real.

"Goodnight, Lance." Keith gave him a small kiss before letting him return to the bedroom.

Lance stepped backward slowly, letting their hands gradually come apart and their fingertips reach for each other. "Goodnight."

Lance stopped in the doorway and watched Keith lie down on the couch and pull the blanket over himself. When he was comfortable, Lance continued to his room. He shut the door and leaned his back against it. His heart pounded and his hands shook. Waves of emotion pumped through his veins and clouded his head. "Don't do it Lance," he whispered to himself.

He stood and gathered himself with a deep breath. "Okay, okay. Just go to bed." Lance climbed into the bed and wrapped himself up tightly in the blankets. He lied there for a moment, then readjusted. Then rolled over. Then switched positions.

Lance stared at the bedroom door as his heart hammered against his rib cage. "Don't do it Lance."

He continued to stare at the door for a few moments in frustration. Biting his lip, he turned the other way. After a few seconds, he turned back. Lance stuffed his face into his pillow and groaned in frustration. Then, he threw the blankets off and jumped out of bed. He ran through the hall and slipped into the living room.

"Keith!"


	20. If You Want To Stick To The FLuffy Parts Of This Story, Skip This Part.

Keith turned to look at him. Concern laced into his eyes, "What is it?"

Lance stood in an oversized pink sweater and boxers. He fiddled with the sleeves, averting his eyes to avoid looking straight at Keith. "Um, do you," he trailed off.

Keith pulled the blanket off and sat on the edge of the couch, "What is it, baby?"

"You don't, um," he gulped, "You don't have to sleep out here."

Keith tilted his head and let his eyes fall in thought.

Lance took a deep breath to calm his pounding chest and gave him a serious look. "Do you want to come to the bed?"

Keith looked him up and down with intense eyes. "Are you sure?"

Lance gave him quick nods.

He stood and walked up to him, "You're ready?"

Lance raised his eyes to meet his, "Are you?"

They stared into each other's eyes with loving gazes. Keith grabbed Lance's thighs and wrapped his legs around him, walking to the bedroom.

Lance was laid down gently as Keith kissed him passionately. Their hands tugged at each other's shirts, pulling them closer together. Keith licked Lance's bottom lip, lightly tugging with his teeth. Lance opened his mouth to allow him in. His tongue explored Lance's mouth fully as his hands stroked his thighs. Lance threaded his fingers into Keith's hair, deepening the kiss.

Keith pulled away to rip his shirt off and throw it to the floor. Lance sat up to let him repeat the action with his pink sweater. Their bodies lowered back down, arms wrapped around each other. Keith's hands ran up Lance's stomach to his neck and into his hair. Lance let out a faint moan at the touch.

The heart in Lance's chest was running a hundred miles an hour. He let his mind run on autopilot. Keith's body was hot and pressed against his own with intensity. His lips were sweet–like the first sip of a latte. His skin was smooth, but it wore scars on his shoulders and abdomen.

Lance tugged Keith's sweatpants, then ran his hands over the line down his back. Keith kept his mouth on Lance's as he took off his pants and tossed them aside. Lance pushed on his shoulder to switch places.

He sat up on his knees with his hands on Keith's chest, "You really want to?"

Keith laughed at him, "Yeah! I just didn't want to pressure you into it or anything."

Lance's eyebrows furrowed in realization, "Is that why you wouldn't sleep in the same bed as me?!"

"Yeah," Keith gave him a nervous smile.

Lance pushed on his chest in playful frustration, "I thought you didn't want to sleep with me! You had me all nervous."

Keith laughed at him and brought a hand up to his neck, "Come here."

They came back together in a giggling kiss. Keith put himself back on top and stroked his thumbs over Lance's nipples, emitting a few pleased moans. Then, he tugged on the waistband of Lance's boxers. He pulled away to look into Lance's eyes one more time, "Are you sure?"

Lance placed his hands on his cheeks, " _Yes._ Hurry it up, Romeo."

Keith kissed his nose sweetly, then reached up to the nightstand. Lance craned his neck in curiosity. He pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube, then returned to him. Lance eyed him playfully, "You put those there."

"Yes I did."

Lance chuckled, "You sly dog."

He shrugged and leaned down to kiss Lance's abdomen, tugging off his boxers. Lance stifled his moans with the back of his hand. Keith looked up at him, "This might hurt a little."

A finger was pushed into him. It felt more strange than painful. Keith brought his tongue to Lance's nipples as he inserted another finger. That's when it started to sting for Lance. He dug his fingers into Keith's shoulder.

"Keith, it's weird," a moan closed his throat, "and it hurts."

Keith brought him into a soft kiss, "It will feel good in a second, baby." He rubbed Lance's cheek with his thumb, "Do you want me to stop?"

Lance swallowed hard and shook his head, "No, don't stop."

Keith kissed him one more time, then added another finger. "Just try to relax."

Lance sucked air through his teeth and threw his head back. Keith used his other hand to stroke Lance's dick to ease his pain. Lance suddenly cried out when a wave of pleasure washed over him.

He tried to stifle his moans, "Keith!"

Keith smirked and removed his fingers to pull off his own boxers. Lance caught his breath and tried to keep his heart calm to prevent a crisis. Keith returned his hands to Lance, picking him up to sit on his lap.

Keith moved the hair from Lance's eyes, "Use my shoulders and lower yourself down. It won't hurt as much."

Lance nodded and pushed up on his shoulders. He hugged Keith's head as he lined himself up. Slowly and carefully, he brought himself down. A spark of pleasure shocked him as he was all the way down. Keith supported his back and kissed his shoulder, letting him get used to it. Lance was lowered back down to the pillow. He held onto Keith's shoulders anxiously, shutting his eyes tightly.

Keith kissed his forehead, "I'm gonna move now."

It felt strange at first, but Lance quickly felt pleasure running through his body. He wrapped one arm around his neck and one tugged on his hair. "Keith! Ah!"

Keith swallowed hard, "Does it hurt?"

Lance shook his head and gasped, "No, it's- mm"

Keith kissed his lips deeply and increased his speed. Lance pulled away to cry out and dig his nails into Keith's shoulders. Wet sounds and slapping skin filled the air and bounced off the bedroom walls.

Lance threw his head back, "Keith! Harder!"

Keith panted and lifted his chest. He held the back of Lance's knees and looked down on him. Lance grabbed the sides of the pillow as his muscles tensed.

"Keith!"

"Ah, Lance."

Lance cried out loudly as he came, clutching the sheets of the bed. Keith returned his hands to the mattress beside Lance's waist, finishing himself off. With a sexy grunt, he slowed to a stop and gasped for breath.

Keith reached a hand up to stroke Lance's cheek and look in his eyes.

Lance placed his hand over Keith's and gave him a warm smile, returning the loving gaze.


	21. Who Else Wishes They Had A Lover Like Keith

Lance woke up slowly. He pushed himself up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The sunlight shone onto the blankets, making them appear whiter than they were. The memories of the previous night flooded his mind and brought a blush to his cheeks. He scanned the bed. Keith wasn't there. Lance tossed the covers back and grabbed his pink sweater from the ground.

His bare feet pattered the floor as he wandered through the house. After taking a quick look at the clock, he realized it was already the afternoon. When he entered the dining room, he saw Keith sitting out on the patio. Lance's book was in his hand as he sipped on a coffee.

Lance opened the door and hugged him from behind. He kissed his cheek, "Hey, baby."

Keith set down the book and mug to ruffle his hair. "Well, good morning sleeping beauty."

Lance stepped around the chair to sit in his lap. Keith wrapped his arms around him, "How's your body?"

A smile lit up his face, "I'm great."

Keith stroked his cheek, "We have dinner reservations at six. Wear the dress and heels I told you to pack."

Lance eyed him suspiciously, "Okay."

"What?"

He thought with a dramatic hum, then shook his head. "Nothing." He picked up the book and handed it to Keith, "Read some more to me."

Keith chuckled with a nod as he opened up to the right page, "Alright."

Lance sat back in the lounge chair as Keith rubbed his calves, listening to the warm voice. It was like a song that lulled him to sleep and cast away his fears. Nothing was impossible when he was holding him. Keith had crowned a king, turned trees into ballgowns, transported them into a story, created a rainbow from behind a waterfall, weaved stars into the waves of the sea, and best of all, instilled a new sense of hope into a broken boy. There wasn't anything he couldn't do. As long as they were together, the world didn't stand a chance.

The dress that Lance chose was one Keith had bought him–short, A line, sleeveless, white dress with embroidered blue flowers on the middle of the chest and speckled on the skirt. The shoes were also a gift. They matched the blue flowers on the dress and laced up with a ribbon around the ankles.

"It looks better than I thought."

Lance looked at Keith through the mirror as he leaned against the doorframe. He was dressed up in a formal black suit and blue tie.

Lance twisted his waist to show off the dress, "I really like it."

Keith wrapped his arms around Lance's waist, "Ready to go?"

Lance smiled at himself in the mirror, "Yeah."

The restaurant was definitely five-star. Keith reserved a beautiful private table, probably to keep any prying eyes off his man. They practically laughed and joked all through the dinner. Lance enjoyed admiring the food with a camera and then feeding most of it to Keith–who gladly accepted.

"Wait," Lance eyed the surroundings out the car window, "this isn't the way to the hotel."

"No, it isn't." Keith's smile was visible through the moonlight.

Lance scrunched his face up in suspicion, "Where are you taking me?"

Keith gave him a few quick glances, wearing that cheeky smile. He loosened his tie a little, "To the last stop."

Overlooking the city was a wooden platform, which had been recreated into a mini ballroom. Strings of twinkling lights were weaved into the railing; jars of candles lined the edge; deep red rose petals dotted the ground, framing the magnificent scene. Keith adjusted things on his car radio, then circled around to open all the doors. He set it up, then led Lance over to the platform. With a spin, he placed Lance in the center and pulled out his phone.

A powerful yet gentle melody flooded from the car. Keith wrapped a hand around Lance's shoulder and pulled up his other hand, "I heard from a reliable source that you love to dance." He motioned to the car with his head, "And that this was your favorite song to dance to."

Lance's face softened and he placed his arm along Keith's bicep, "Your source was correct."

It didn't take long for their bodies to move together fluidly. Lance could feel the night air envelop his legs and weave through his hair, only to be thrown off with a spin. The stars were their audience; the moon was their spotlight. With every click of his heel and every thump of his heart, Lance fell more in love with the man that held him. The mysterious purple glow of his eyes were just as intense as the first time Lance saw them. Keith's hands were smooth and nimble, spinning him around with ease. Lance felt the distinct feeling rise in his chest again. He wasn't sick there. He wasn't dying. He was just dancing.

Lance let out a gleeful laugh as Keith spun him again, letting go of his hand to let him take control. When he turned back around, his face immediately dropped.

Keith had kneeled down on one knee and held up Lance's passport. A matching ribbon wrapped around the book and carried a brilliant ring. Lance brought his shaking hands up to his mouth and stared at him in disbelief.

Keith let out a nervous laugh, eyes tearing up. "Lance McClain," he spoke as confidently as he could, but his voice trembled, "You have traveled to all of these places with me. I never told you where we were going, but you followed and put an amazing amount of blind trust in the promise that I would protect you and keep you safe. Every decision you ever made was focused on how it would affect me. You are the most selfless person on this Earth. And," He swallowed hard as a tear fell from his eye, "You saved my life. Gave me a purpose and a second chance."

Keith sniffled and motioned to the ring, "Lance McClain, you are the love of my life. The very best thing that has ever happened to me. Nothing I can do or say would ever amount to how much you mean to me."

Lance let out an excited sob as tears ran down his cheeks.

Keith gave him a loving smile and continued, "I want to travel the world with you. I want to give you everything you've ever wanted. I want to stay by your side and," he laughed, "and share your bed."

Keith sniffled and wiped his cheek, taking a deep breath. After recouping, he locked eyes with the shocked Lance. "Lance McClain, would you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"


	22. Pidge Is Mood

"Lance!" Andy ran up to give him a hug, practically running him over.

Lance accepted with a grunt, "Hey there!"

Keith set Lance's suitcases down in the entryway and wiped his forehead. One by one, Lance's family filed into the living room to welcome him back. Lance's father went straight to Keith and pat his shoulder in acceptance. Lance eyed Keith suspiciously and whispered in his ear when his father left.

"Did you...?"

Keith shot him a smile, "Of course I did."

"Welcome back, my baby!" Lance's mother greeted him with outstretched arms.

"Hi Mama," Lance hugged her tightly. If something bad had happened on the trip, the last thing they would've done is fight. He was thankful they got to make up. Lance's hair was ruffled by his uncles and cousins and his cheeks were kissed by his aunts. He pulled away from the crowd and held his arms up, "Okay everyone! I'm gonna need you guys to sit down somewhere in the living room! I have news."

Murmurs of curiosity rose from them as everyone found a spot on the couches or floor. Lance's family went silent and Keith and Lance exchanged glances from where they were standing.

Lance took a deep breath and locked eyes with every worried or curious or excited face that stared at him. He fiddled with his hands behind his back as he talked. "Well, um–"

Keith placed a hand on his shoulder in encouragement and gave him a nod.

Lance glanced at him, then returned to the audience and held up the ring on his hand, "Keith and I are engaged."

They received mixed reactions. Some were speechless in shock. Others screamed in excitement. A select few scowled in disgust. Lance's aunt, Liliana, hugged him tightly while his uncle, Luis, shook Keith's hand. Lance noticed a hostile glare from Andy through the crowd, and he couldn't even locate his mother.

"Oh Pidge, you should have seen it!" Lance paced around her room. "He lit candles and played music and danced! It was so beautiful!"

"Lance, you've been talking about this for an hour." Pidge kept her eyes on her video game.

Hunk gave him a smile, "It's a big deal. Keith seems like a great guy."

Lance jumped onto Pidge's bed and stuffed his face into her pillow. "He is!"

"Ah!" Pidge's game emitted a death sequence. "I'm out." She passed the controller to Hunk, "Your turn."

Hunk took it and started it up again. "So Lance, do you guys have any plans yet? For the wedding?"

"Well," Lance uncovered his face. His mind wandered, "we haven't gone over a lot. I'm not even sure if we are doing a big wedding." He brought the pillow to his chest and lowered his voice, "I don't even know if I can handle a wedding."

Pidge leaned her head back to rest on the bed, "Lance?"

He kept his eyes ahead, "Yeah?"

She turned and patted his leg, "It's gonna be okay. Don't worry too much."

"I'm not," a smile warmed his face, "Keith will take care of me."

Pidge gagged, "You guys are disgusting."

"Disgustingly cute," Hunk corrected, passing the controller back to Pidge.

"So," she took it, "how's the family taking it?"

"Oh!" Lance jumped up. "Get this!"

Hunk and Pidge turned toward him, "What?"

He brought his hands up to his cheeks, "He asked for my hand!"

"No way!" Hunk fangirled along with him.

"Kill me now." Pidge rolled her eyes.


	23. Cupcake Shops Are Dope

Lance held the thin fabric of his pink skirt between his fingers, swaying it back and forth in the wind. It tapped his thighs and clung to his black kitten purse. His black Mary Janes glided across the sidewalk. His other hand was intertwined with Keith's, swinging back and forth with every step.

Keith reached up to brush off the shoulder of Lance's black and white striped shirt. His warm eyes smiled at him and returned to the sidewalk. People passed by them as they walked through the small shops of downtown. Lance brought his fingertips up to brush over his mask.

Keith placed a medium-sized box in Lance's lap as he sat on Keith's couch. It was a powder pink box with a slightly darker ribbon wrapped around it to create a puffy bow. He chuckled, "Um–" He pointed a manicured finger down at it, causing his Pandora bracelet to rattle. "What is this?"

Keith sat on the floor in front of him, placing his hands on Lance's knees. He looked up at Lance like a child visiting Santa. "Open it."

Lance shrugged and carefully tugged the ribbon loose. It fell over his legs and licked the floor by his pink chunky bow heels. He gave one last glance to Keith before lifting the lid. He dramatically tossed it to the side. Every movement was slow and methodical as to tease the excited Keith begging like a dog at his feet. Under matching pink tissue paper was a pink Vogmask speckled with little panda faces. Lance gasped as he lifted it from the box.

Keith shifted his legs, "I know you hate wearing those medical masks, so I thought it would be better if you had something like this."

Lance dropped down off the couch and onto his knees, wrapping his arms around Keith's neck. "You're the best!"

Keith squeezed Lance's hand and lifted a finger to point over to a fountain in a small courtyard. The sun glittered the water to create faint mini rainbows. Lance's cheeks warmed up at the memory of their trip. He fiddled with the ring on his left hand, relieved he hadn't lost it.

"Do you wanna share a cupcake?" Keith nudged his head over to a little cupcake shop.

Lance was glad the mask covered his embarrassingly obsessive smiles and blushes. He gave an enthusiastic nod and tugged him through the door.

Lance had carefully slid his Vogmask into his purse before he started enjoying the pretty cupcake. Mocha with crushed peppermint and chocolate drizzle over white frosting. He used the small plastic pink fork to take a bite while he looked around at the interior of the shop. The walls were all pink. Small cupcake paper lights hung from the ceiling. It looked like somewhere a princess would stay. Lance was thankful Keith put up with his strange obsessions. In fact, he encouraged them.

He giggled and set his fork down to talk with his hands, "Okay."

Keith mirrored his hands teasingly, "What?"

"Stop," he slapped his arm with a snicker. "We need to talk wedding."

Keith took a bite of the cupcake with his tiny fork. It looked strange with his black fingerless gloves. Everyone else was cute and fluffy while Keith was dressed like some sort of gang member surrounded by Kero Kero Bonito. It should've felt strange, but everyone gawked over him and stared at Lance in jealousy. Keith averted his gaze to laugh and blush slightly, "Of course."

"Okay," Lance nodded. "So," he moved a few strands of hair out of his eyes, hesitating a little. He squinted at him to observe every move, "Can I be blunt with you?"

Keith shrugged, "Of course."

"I," Lance sounded out every syllable, "don't know if I have twelve months to plan a big wedding." He placed his palms on the table, tapping his ring in the process. "I mean, I've already had a stroke. I've only recently completely recovered from that." He pouted, "And that sucks because I want a beautiful grand wedding. I want to do all the things normal people do, but I'm not–"

"Shh," Keith set his fork over Lance's lips, "Stop worrying." The intensity of his eyes stopped Lance in his tracks. "You want an extravagant wedding? You'll have an extravagant wedding." He brought his fork back to pick at the cupcake, "Whatever you want. I'll make it happen."

Lance leaned up onto the table to close the distance between them. Their noses barely touched, "Time."

Keith leaned into a short kiss, "Consider it done."

Lance scoffed and sat back in his chair, "What are you? God?"

Keith shrugged, "That makes you my Goddess."

"Oh, that's right." Lance tapped his polished nails on the table. "You're pagan."

"Mm-hmm." Keith nodded as he stuck a puff of peppermint frosting onto his tongue.

"So no church."

"Do you want to be in a church?"

"Not really." Lance crossed his arms. "That feels too cliché for us."

Keith chuckled, "Yeah, I guess it does."

Lance watched him finish the last peppermint mocha morsel and brush his hands together. He switched his gaze between Keith and the two girls in the booth. They had taken a liking to the bad boy in the cupcake shop–who had paid no attention to anyone other than Lance. Once he was finished chewing, Lance leaned forward again to kiss him. The sweetness of the cupcake coated his lips. "I love you." He shot a look at the girls as he claimed his man.

The oblivious Keith placed a hand on his cheek before he could sit back down and kissed his forehead, "I love you more."


	24. Oh No It's Getting Depressing *snaps* Cue The Sad Music

Lance loved the smell of clothes straight out of the dryer. He loved the warmth and softness they held. When he was younger, it was the closest thing he had to affection. When he wished for someone to hold him or when the world was particularly cold to him; he came home, poured the clothes out, and let them fall down on him like rain. It seemed like a silly thing at the time. He would always start off with laughing that would slowly progress into tears. The best feelings he could access were hugging pillows, warm shower floors, and clothes from the dryer.

When he got the HIV results back, his body fell numb. The yelling from his parents went right through him as he stood there like a ghost. The whole world felt like it was traveling underwater. He went upstairs to the dryer in slow motion and yanked all the clothes from it, scattering them across the floor of the laundry room. He fell to the ground and finally recovered his emotions. He clung to the various shirts and jeans as he cried for hours. All his siblings and disgusted parents ignored his sobs and left him all alone. That's the first night he planned to kill himself.

 _Knock. Knock._ "Lance?"

Lance looked over at Keith standing in the doorway. He wore his leather jacket and cheeky smile, "Whatcha doing?"

Lance hugged Keith's pillow tighter and rolled onto his side, taking in a deep breath of his scent. "Just thinking."

Keith walked up to him and leaned down to his level. His eyes were like precious jewels that held Lance's entire world. "About what?"

Lance lifted a hand and placed it on his cheek. "Nothing important."

Keith covered Lance's hand with his own and kissed his palm. That's when Lance noticed how thin he had gotten. He and Keith used to be pretty close in size when they met, but now his hand was half the size of Keith's. His skin wrapped around weak bones and a thin layer of muscle. The tendons in his hands were carved out with his knuckles. Even his ring was just slightly bigger than he remembered.

He was dying.

Keith's eyes locked on his face again, "Lance? What's wrong?"

He forced a smile and shook his head, "Nothing. What did you need?"

Keith leaned in to kiss his nose, "I want you to come downstairs."

Lance scrunched his eyebrows together, "Why?"

Keith pulled him off the bed by his wrists, "Just come on! It'll be fun!"

Lance was led down to the kitchen and was greeted by a mountain of baking supplies spilling over the counters. He pointed at it, "Um, Keith? What is all this?"

"We," Keith placed a tiara on Lance's head, "are going to bake a cake." He flicked his nose, "Any one you want."

A feeling of warmth enveloped his chest and leaking into the room. It wasn't the same as the clothes from the dryer. It was better. Lance's cheeks brightened, "I want a devil's food cake."

Baking with Keith was anything but elegant. He was messy and took no regard for measuring utensils. Lance laughed at him and constantly checked over his work. Keith liked to play around when he could get away with it. He painted Lance's cheeks with batter and chased him with handfuls of flour. In the end, Lance caved and blew a mound of white onto his black clothes. They fought with eggs too, busting them over each other's heads or shoulders. Keith also spun Lance around as he licked the batter off the spoon, placing him up on the counter to make out. By the time the cake was done, the whole kitchen was coated in all of its ingredients.

"You!" Lance pointed at him with a soapy whisk. "You are terrible!"

Keith leaned over and planted a kiss on his cake-covered cheek. "But you love me."

"You're lucky I do," he picked up another dirty dish and ran it under the water.

Keith smirked and set down his towel. He leaned an elbow on the counter, pressing his sleeve into a splotch of butter. "You wanna finish this later?"

Lance chuckled and pointed to his arm, "You're real sexy when you're covered in your dessert."

"Am I?" Keith placed a hand behind his head and posed.

"Stop that!" A laugh formed in Lance's throat. He tossed the dish into the sink and dried his hands.

"How about," Keith dramatically moved his arms and swayed his hips to mimic Elvis, "How 'bout we go and," he slicked his hair back, "wash up."

Lance's laughing intensified, bringing tears to his eyes, "Oh my god! I love you, but don't ever do that again."

Keith held out a hand for him, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows. Lance took it and was pulled into a spin. Keith sweetly kissed his forehead as they swayed. "Let's go."


	25. This Story Is Gonna Tear Me Apart

"Lance!" Andy ran into Lance's room with a smile on his face, which quickly dropped when he saw the suitcase on the bed.

"Hey Andy," Lance folded a shirt and tossed it into the bag. "What's up?"

He stared at the suitcase with a seething hatred and inched into the room. "Where are you going?"

"Oh," Lance shot him a smile, "I'm going to spend a couple days with Keith."

His eyes widened and he turned to tug on the sleeve of Lance's Hello Kitty sweater, "No! Don't go!"

Lance was taken aback by his actions. Andy was never like this. "Um, what–uh–what do you mean?"

"I don't want you to go!" Andy clamped his eyes shut and shook his head. "You're always with that guy! I never get to see you! I hate him!"

"Wait, what?" Lance placed his free hand on Andy's shoulder. "You hate Keith?" He leaned down to his level. "Why?"

Andy's face was full of anger and frustration. His eyes teared up a little, "He beat up Mark! Now he's stealing you away! I don't like him!"

Lance blinked in surprise. How had he not noticed that? He forgot to remember how close the three boys were–of course Andy would be upset. Lance never got to hang out with them since he was too weak. Never mind the fact that Mark didn't give a shit about him.

Lance pulled his arm out of Andy's grasp. "Andy," he crossed his arms and averted his gaze, "do you know what started that fight?"

Andy's face dropped in realization as he stared at his brother.

"Do you know what Mark said to me? To Keith?" Lance tried to keep himself from getting angry. He swallowed hard,  "Did you even see all the times Mark tossed me to the side like _garbage_?"

Andy shook his head in anger, "He's not like that! Mark is a good guy!"

"Is he?!" Lance locked eyes with him. "You think Keith isn't? Are you serious?" Lance threw a frustrated hand up, "Did you just choose to ignore his actions so you didn't lose your football buddy? Open your eyes!"

Andy pointed an accusatory finger at him, "You're just jealous of him!"

"Oh I am?" Lance waved his hands dramatically. "Honey, I'm way past jealous. I was jealous when I was sitting alone on the sidewalk while you three got to play together. I was jealous when Mama would give you guys hugs goodbye and not me." He tapped his chest, "The only thing I'm jealous of, _Andy,_ is the fact that Mark gets to live longer."

"Mark doesn't hate you! You hated him first!"

Lance was infuriated. What lies has he been told. He crossed his arms and glared down at him. "Did he tell you that?! What are you? A child?! You're fourteen! Grow the fuck up and open your eyes! You really think I sought out a personal vendetta against my brother?"

Andy opened his mouth to counter, but couldn't find the words–much to his frustration.

Lance took a breath, "Andy, Mark used to hit me. Did you know that?"

His face dropped as his eyes widened. Lance waited until he shook his head.

Lance turned to fiddle with the clothes in the suitcase. "Mark is twenty-three. Which means we were in school together." He pulled on his sleeves, "When we were in high school, Mark used to let his friends have their way with me. The only rule was no sex–not like any of them wanted to."

Andy hesitantly shook his head, "You're lying."

Lance continued, "After we graduated, Mark did everything he could to keep me out of your guys' little posse. He'd lock me in closets or threaten to beat me up." Lance locked eyes with Andy, "He's not a nice guy."

Lance turned away and smiled, "But Keith is sweet. He knows everything about my situation and doesn't care. He wants to make me happy and give me everything." Lance looked back to Andy, making sure he understood. " _That's_ a good guy." He picked up more of his clothes and packed them in the suitcase, "He's going to be my husband. I hope you guys get along because you're a great kid, and he wants you guys to like him."

"Lance?" Andy's voice was low and pitiful.

Lance sighed, "Yes, Andy?"

He locked eyes with Lance and clenched his fists. "I hate you." He stomped out of the room and slammed the door.


	26. Awwww

Keith took a shaky deep breath and knocked on the door. His heart was climbing up his throat and banging on his ribs. He had planned the entire meeting; but as soon as the door opened, his mind went blank.

Lance's father gave him a bright smile, "Keith!" He leaned his arm against the corner of the door, "What can I do for you, son?" He leaned back to look at the stairs, "Lance isn't here right now, but–"

"That's not why I'm here." Keith had finally found his voice. He relaxed his jaw and brought his hands together, "Actually, I'm here to talk to you."

His eyes lit up, "Me?"

Keith nodded, keeping his eyes down.

Lance's father motioned a welcoming arm, "Well, come on in then!" He fussed over Keith as he shut the door and led him to the living room. "Would you like a coffee?"

Keith sat down and nodded, "That would be nice."

Two mugs were set on the coffee table. Lance's father sat down on the couch across from him and relaxed. He sighed and wiped his forehead, "Been working in the garage all day. Sorry for my appearance."

Keith waved his hands and flashed a smile, "That's totally fine!"

He reached forward and picked up his mug. He took a sip, "So what can I do for you?"

"Oh, uh–" Keith lowered his eyes and fiddled with his hands. "I," he trailed off, "I wanted to ask you something."

"Alright."

"Um," Keith took a deep breath and lifted his head. He refused to look weak when he asked. This moment was important. It was his entire future–the very reason he was alive. He gulped and ran his tongue over his lips. Keith locked eyes with him and spoke in a strong and stoic tone.

"Can I have take care of your son for the rest of his life?"

Lance's father let out a small gasp as his eyes widened. His mouth opened, but no sound would come out.

Keith continued his speech, "Lance is the most caring, beautiful, loving person I have ever met. He is selfless and kind." A warm smile appeared on Keith's face. "He likes to act like he has everything together, but he's scared. He's been beaten down and told he's worthless."

Keith locked eyes with him again, "But he's not. Nowhere near it. He's the very reason I'm living today. He's my entire world—my sun and moon and all the amazing constellations I see in his eyes. I want him to know just how much he means to me."

"I," Keith lifted his hands up to touch his chest, "I want to marry him."

Lance's father stared back at him. A tear fell down his cheek. He sniffled and wiped it off, "You want to marry my Lance?"

Keith leaned back in surprise. Had he said something wrong? "Yes."

Lance's father held his head in his hands. He murmured, "My precious Lance?"

Keith smiled and leaned over to place a hand on his shoulder. He uncovered his tear-stained face and looked up at him. Keith softened his eyes, "I love him."

Lance's father stood and maneuvered his way around the coffee table. He pulled Keith into a tight hug. His breath hitched, "You will make an amazing son-in-law."

And with that, Keith broke. Tears filled his eyes and streaked down his face. He clamped his eyes shut and hugged him back. He sniffled, "Thank you!"

Lance's father pulled away and grabbed his shoulders, "No. Thank _you._ "

Keith wiped his cheeks, "I'm going to take Lance on a road trip. During the vacation, I'm going to propose." He let out a happy sob, "I love him so much."  
  


Lance skipped into Keith's house chanting, "I know what I want! I know what I want! I know what I want!"

Keith laughed at him as he trotted over to the couch and jumped onto Keith's lap. He wore black Mary Janes, thigh highs, and crop top sweater with jean shorts. The weather was getting colder, so he had started wearing thicker clothing. Keith hadn't seen his winter outfits, so he wasn't sure what he had in store.

Lance wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed his forehead, "I know what I want."

Keith smiled at him and rubbed his back under the shirt, "What are you talking about?"

"A handfasting." His bright eyes sparkled as he stared down at him. A smile was painted across his joyful cheeks.

"What?" Keith chuckled, "Why would you want that?"

"Well," his eyes went to the ceiling in recollection, "I was thinking about the wedding and what I want to do." He brought a hand up to motion to Keith, "And I remembered you're pagan, so I was like, 'Hey I want that!'"

"But you're not pagan," Keith tilted his head. "You don't have to do that for me."

Lance pouted, "I want to!" He talked with his hands in a slight whine. "People get married in churches all the time and they aren't christian. And besides," Lance picked at Keith's jacket, "maybe it's time for me to have a little faith."

Keith looked at him with a surprised smile, "You're sure?"

Lance nodded, "Yeah. One hundred percent."

Keith leaned up to kiss him gently. Lance tightened his hold and smiled into it. They gradually pulled away, keeping their foreheads together. Keith kissed his nose, "I can't wait to marry you."


	27. *Looks Into Camera Like I'm On The Office* Poor Highschool Lance

The blunt shoe brought a sharp pain to Lance's ribs. He coughed and clutched his chest. Tears had welled up in his eyes and fallen to the chilly concrete. He wheezed and cried out to his brother. "Mark!"

Tyler's shoe came down on him again, "Shut up, faggot!"

Harry knelt down into his sight, blocking his view of Mark. Dangling from his hand was Lance's cherry blossom brooch. "Is this important to you?"

"Please," Lance whined, "It was a gift from my father." He lifted a shaky hand toward it, "Please give it back."

"Ah," Harry pulled it away with a cocky smile.

"Please!" Lance sobbed, "Do whatever you want with me, but give that back!" He tried to call out again, "Mark!"

"Guys," Mark put his hand on Harry's shoulder and snatched the brooch out of his hand.

A hopeful breath hitched in Lance's throat. He stared up at Mark with wide eyes. Mark lifted the brooch to his eyes and inspected it. His eyes shot down to Lance's. Slowly, he lowered it down to his hand. Right when it tapped Lance's palm, Mark snatched it back and threw it as far as he could into the neighboring field.

Lance's face scrunched up in heartbreak and anger, "Mark!"

Tyler yanked Lance up by the hair and shoved him away. Lance stumbled, but found his unsteady footing. His rose skirt was frayed, black tights torn, and black shirt covered in mud. He held his arm across his stomach. A tear fell down his cheek.

"Oh, look!" Harry twisted his fists on his cheeks in mockery. "He's crying!"

Tyler laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Aww! Do you need a tampon?"

Lance's white tennis shoes scraped the cracked road as he spun around and started running. He didn't know where he was going, but all he wanted was to be far away from them. From Tyler. From Harry. From Mark.

Mark. How could he let them do this?

When Lance looked up, he found himself at a tall parking garage. He pushed through the tearing pain in his joints and ran all the way to the top. The wind hit him like a wave as he looked across the sky. He ran to the edge and started to climb onto the solid railing, scraping his palms and knees in the process.

"Lance!" Mark's voice pierced his ears.

Lance ignored him and brought his knees onto the concrete. Arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him off. Lance hit and scratched at them as he screamed.

Mark tossed him down away from the edge, "What the fuck are you doing?!"

Lance screamed at him from the ground, "Why do you care?!"

Mark reached down and grabbed his arm, "Come on, let's go."

Lance yanked his arm away, "Leave me alone!"

Mark glared down at him. "Lance," he tried to grab his arm again, "Stop fucking around. Let's go home."

Lance frantically slapped his hands away, "Why won't you just let me die?!"

Mark flinched and leaned back. His face dropped the anger, but stayed stern.

"Just go away!" Lance was sobbing, but his heart was full of anger. "Leave me and let me die by my own hand!"

Mark stared at him for a while, then huffed and reached into his pocket. He knelt down and held out his hand. Placed in his palm was the cherry blossom brooch. Lance quickly snatched it from his hand and clutched it against his chest.

Mark leaned forward and forced Lance into a hug. He sighed, "I don't want you to die." Lance fought against his grip, but he squeezed tighter. "I never wanted you to die."

"Then why?!" Lance wiggled out of his grasp. "Why do you treat me like this?!"

Mark's eyes went hard. His lips pushed together in a thin line. He adjusted his collar with a loose finger, then shrugged. "Because I want to."


	28. *Munches On Popcorn*

Lance knocked on the dark wood. The motion jingled his bracelet and heightened his anxiety. The house was much nicer than his, and he couldn't help but feel a little jealous. The grass was well-kept and striped in rows of green. Lance's breath hitched as the door suddenly opened.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Lance gave him a sweet smile, "Hello, Mark."

Mark crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "What, Lance?"

Lance lifted a hand and motioned to the house, "May I come in?"

Mark's eyes drifted in thought as he debated letting him in. After a moment, he stepped back and motioned inside.

Lance nodded and stepped past him. He had never been in Mark's house–or more like: he was never _allowed_ in Mark's house. On the sandy wall next to him hung a coat rack above various shoes. Light wood flooring shined in the rays of sun that leaked through the shiny windows. A conservative chandelier hung at the intersection of the various rooms.

Mark shut the door and turned around. He walked toward the kitchen, "Do you want some coffee?"

Lance followed him, "Do you have tea?"

"Yeah," Mark motioned to the kitchen bar and sifted through the cabinets.

Lance sat down and turned to admire the living room behind him. Greyish blue couches with an array of decorative pillows sat around an elegant fireplace. "Your house is so pretty."

"Thank you." Mark slid a mug in front of him. He leaned down onto the counter with a mug of his own. His face was calm and held no traces of anger. "I'll ask again. Why are you here?"

"Straight to the point, huh?" Lance fiddled with the rim of his mug and raised it to his lips.

Mark kept staring at him with an intense stare.

Lance sighed and tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear, "Alright." He took a deep breath and looked Mark in the eyes. "I wanted to ask you something."

Mark shrugged, "You couldn't call?"

Lance shook his head, "This isn't really a phone call thing."

Mark rolled his eyes, "Alright. What is it?"

"I was wondering," Lance glanced down at his tea as he trailed off. "Well, I'm sure you've heard that Keith and I are engaged."

Mark sighed and nodded, "I have." He took a sip of his coffee, "And I noticed the ring on your hand."

Lance glanced down at his ring and spun it around his finger. "Yeah."

"Is that all?" Mark gave him a confused look.

Lance bit his lip and shook his head, "No, that's not all." He fought through his anxiety, "I wanted to ask you if you would be my best man at the wedding."

Mark's eyes widened and his face contorted into a mixture of shock and bewilderment. He leaned back and stared down at Lance, "What?"

Lance repeated himself, clearer this time. "I want you to be my best man."

Mark lifted a hand and shook his head. "Yeah, I know. I heard that, but–" he took a confused breath, "but why _me_?"

Lance lowered his eyes and fiddled with his mug, "It's just something I've always wanted."

"But you hate me." Mark scoffed, "I did so much shit to you."

Lance slowly shook his head and locked eyes with him. "I never hated you, Mark." He sighed, "I mean, you weren't the best brother, but it doesn't change that."

Mark took a deep breath and crossed his arms with a smirk. "You've gotta be fucking with me."

"I'm not." Lance spaced out his words, "I want you there." He averted his gaze, "I know we haven't had the best relationship. I've got my own reasons why I'm asking you; and I don't think you will ever be able to understand them."

"So," Mark leaned back down and spoke with his hands, "So you want me to be your best man at your wedding?"

Lance nodded, "Yes. Will you?"

"You're not tricking me into something are you? Some kind of revenge?"

Lance's face scrunched up in annoyance, "Jesus. No, Mark. Who do you think I am?"

Mark clicked his teeth and stood up straight. He looked to the side as he thought about Lance's offer.

Lance pointed at him, "Just don't try and beat up my fiancé again."

"Nah, I'm not gonna try that again." Mark scratched his head, "You're serious?"

Lance nodded and took another sip of his tea.

Mark took a few moments to think. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, "Best man, huh?" He looked back at Lance and gave him a small smile. "It's got a nice ring to it."


	29. If You've Never Seen A Handfasting, Watch One On Youtube. Super Cute!

Lance felt each pounding of the drum beat his chest. They weaved into his rib cage and set the rhythm of his heart. The sunset light filtered through the trees and warmed his skin. He adjusted his white lace ballet flats and admired his hands in Keith's. They looked completely opposite of each other, but linked together in perfect harmony. Keith smiled at him. He stood in a black suit that made him look old; and slicked back hair that reminded Lance of Twist and Shout. Keith's eyes admired Lance's short white dress and flower crown.

"The circle has been cast." The High Priestess held her arms up as she returned to their side. "This is now sacred ground."

Lance took a quick glance at the crowd as she consecrated the rings and presented her speech. White benches sat in rows and cradled various formal attire. An isle of white rose petals separated the sea of people.

Keith squeezed his hand and brought his mind back to the ceremony. He stepped forward and put a hand on Lance's back to lead him to a small wood table set off to the side. They lit the unit candle, then returned back to their spot.

The High Priestess offered her blessing to the East, West, South, and North. As she finished, she handed them the rings.

Keith took Lance's hand and slid the wedding band onto his finger. "Lance McClain, you are the love of my life, my dream come true, my entire universe. As you have done for me, I will become your wall and hold you up when you're low. I promise to never stray from your side in both good times and bad. Today, I vow to take you as my best friend, my partner, and one and only true love. With this ring, I vow that you will never have to go through anything alone. No longer will you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, as I will be there to carry it for you. I promise to trust you, to respect you, and to protect you. I give you my hand to hold and my life to keep. Forever and always."

Lance felt a tear drop down his cheek. He chuckled and took Keith's hand, sliding the ring onto his finger. "Keith Kogane," he locked eyes with him, "You cannot posses me, for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me, for I am a free person. But I shall serve in those ways that you require and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand." A smile tugged at his cheeks, "I pledge to you that yours will be name I cry aloud in the night and the eyes to which I smile in the morning. I pledge to you the first bite of my food and the first drink from my cup. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. I shall be a shield for your back and you for mine. I shall not slander you, nor you me. I shall honor you above all others, and when we quarrel we shall do so in private and tell no strangers of our grievances. This is my wedding vow to you." Lance took a breath, "This is a marriage of equals."

"Now I ask you to cross your arms and take each other's hands." The High Priestess pulled out a long cord with several colors on the ends.

Keith and Lance did as they were told. The cord was tied around their wrists and hung down to show off the different colors. Lance let her speech fade out as he stared into Keith's eyes. Keith gazed back at him with his stunning crystal violet and confident smile.

The High Priestess finished tying the cord. "Now, as a final seal, Keith you may kiss Lance."

Keith leaned forward into a gentle kiss that quickly turned into a deep one. Lance pulled back with a laugh when the crowd playfully groaned. They turned slightly to face their friends and family, showing off their bound hands.

The High Priestess held her arms high, "Ladies and Gentlemen! May I present to you, Lance and Keith McClain!"


	30. Bucket List

Keith and Lance's honeymoon jump started their bucket list. Before the wedding, they wrote down all the things they wanted to do together. Even though neither of them said it, these were things they wanted to do before Lance's eventual death.

The first number they crossed off was three: go on a train trip. Lance fell asleep leaning on Keith's shoulder as he stared out the window. Next, number one: see the northern lights. They stayed in the Kakslauttanen Arctic Resort for a few nights. The rooms were glass igloos that allowed them to see the sky while they lied in bed. Lance enjoyed the view of the wispy streaks of color sitting naked on Keith's lap. Which, coincidentally, crossed off number twelve: wear lingerie they picked out for each other.

The next day, they crossed off numbers nineteen and two: carry Lance on a hike and cross a suspension bridge. Through the snow, Keith gave him a piggyback ride through a forest trail. Then number seventeen: join the mile-high club. Once the other passengers were asleep, they nonchalantly snuck away. When they returned to their seats, they shared a successful high-five.

Their next destination was number thirteen: visit Cuba. Lance guided Keith through the streets with the excitement of a puppy. There, they crossed off numbers twenty and twenty-one: dance in the rain and dangerously on a rooftop. They also completed number six: skinny dip in the rain.

Finally back in the states, they did numbers nine and fourteen first: Go on a helicopter ride and go to the symphony. Keith picked out Lance's dress again. It was a gorgeous sparkling blue with black heels.

When they fished their trip, they returned to Texas and officially moved in to a house they bought together.

Lance curled up tighter in the fluffy white blankets, "Number fifteen."

Keith laughed and hugged him tighter in the morning light. "Staying in bed all day sounds like a plan."

Lance groaned, "I'm so exhausted." He stared up at Keith and gave him a quick kiss.

Keith deepened the kiss with his hands on Lance's cheeks. He pulled away slowly and smirked, "Too tired to play?"  
  
  


Lance pushed Keith aside and shouted, "Number eighteen!"

Keith threw his hands up in defeat, "Counting to twenty!" He covered his eyes and counted down. When he finished, he shouted, "Ready or not, here I come!"

Keith searched through all the isles of IKEA furniture. All he could think about was that he would never find his way out of there. After what seemed like an hour, Lance pounced on him out of nowhere and yelled, "Got you!"  
  
  


Lance held his hand up to admire the tattoo on his wrist. He smiled down at the ink and flexed his thinning fingers. "You ready for this?"

Keith stood beside him and turned to nod. He shook the can of spray paint, "Lets fucking do this."

Lance shook his own can and lifted it to the worn-down wall of the abandoned building. He sprayed a blue _C_ and _U_ , then turned to Keith with a cocky smile.

Keith stepped forward and lifted his can to paint a red _N_ and _T._

They stood back to admire their creation for a moment, then lifted their wrists to compare them. Copied from their tattoos was a red and blue spray-painted _Cunt_ on the dirty, broken wall.   
  
  


Lance intertwined their gloved fingers and took a deep breath. "The last stop."

Keith turned to give him a worried look. He nudged Lance's shoulder toward the Christmas light display. "C'mon. Let's have fun."

Lance smiled up at him and nodded. They walked forward through the path of lit-up multicolored trees. Various decorations of reindeer and elves peeked out from the pine branches. Lance turned to face Keith and wrapped his arms around him, swaying into a small slow-dance. They danced slowly and gently within the light of the trees and the speckles of snow. Only three numbers were left, and this was both numbers five and sixteen.

Keith pulled back slightly to look down at him. He kissed his knitted winter hat, "Number ten?"

Lance huddled into Keith's arm as they walked across the bridge. He looked out over the dark water. The thought of how many people had talked their lives there couldn't escape his head.

Keith's chest started to ring with a gentle hum. The melody lulled away Lance's anxiety. It was a song he knew well. Flashes of Keith's proposal sparked in his mind. The fireworks of every emotion he felt when he saw the ring. Everything ran through his veins.

Lance opened his mouth to sing in a quiet, broken voice. "Yesterday is history. Tomorrow's a mystery. I can see you looking back at me. Keep your eyes on me."

Keith smiled and joined in with him, "Baby, keep your eyes on me." He lifted their hands to spin Lance and face him.

Lance stared back at the intense constellations of crystal violet. He brought their foreheads together and wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

They continued the song in unison. "You are, you are the love of my life. You are, you are the love of my life."

Keith brought him into a slow kiss and kept close as he pulled away. He lifted his hand to present a case with a red bow tied around it. "Number ten."

Lance took it from him and lifted a box of his own. He shrugged, "Number ten."

They held their presents and opened them simultaneously. Lance's face lit up as he uncovered a cherry blossom necklace. He gently picked it up out of the case and handed it to Keith, "Put it on me."

Keith did so and handed Lance his gift: an elegant and smooth black watch. He smiled up at him, "Put it on me."

Lance snapped it around his wrist and brought him into a tight hug. He felt tears sting his eyes as he clung to Keith's leather jacket. He let out a sob and nuzzled his face into his shoulder.

"Hey," Keith held his waist with one arm and cradled his head with the other hand. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Lance shook his head and held him tighter. He couldn't stop the tears from coming. He stayed strong all through their four months of marriage, but a simple necklace broke him down.

"Lance?" Keith kissed his hair. "Please tell me what's wrong."

Lance sniffled and pulled back to let Keith wipe his cheeks. He kept his hands on Keith's shoulders as he lowered his gaze. He hesitated, but finally let out a broken whisper. "I'm not ready to die."

Keith forced a smile and laugh. He cupped Lance's cheeks and lifted his head, "You don't need to worry about that right now."

Lance swallowed hard and slowly shook his head. "Yes, I do."

Keith's smile dropped, but he kept his voice soft. "Why?"

Lance's eyelashes fluttered as he looked up at him. His lips quivered and a tear fell down his cheek. He placed his hands over Keith's and sniffled. "Because I don't feel well."

And with that, Lance collapsed.


	31. Guys, Chill.

"Please help him!" Keith panicked as he stood beside Lance's bed clutching his hand.

Lance sounded like he was coughing up a river. His breathing was strained and he writhed in pain. Various doctors and nurses hooked him up to machines. One nurse with a blonde ponytail turned to him, "Who are you?"

"I'm his husband!" Keith was breathing rapidly and his hands were shaking.

She nodded, "Okay, can you tell me if he has any allergies?"

"I'm—" Keith ran his free hand through his hair, "No, he doesn't. But he's uh—"

The nurse turned back to Lance and slipped an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. "What is it, sir?"

"He has sickle cell and AIDS." Keith held Lance's hand tighter. "And he's had a stroke."

All of the hospital staff stopped to look up at Keith, then Lance. They all passed around the same doubtful and horrified look.

Keith could feel his heart in his throat, "Please help him!"

A doctor shot the blonde nurse a look and she turned to lead Keith out of the room. "I'm sorry, sir, but we have to take care of your husband." Keith was reluctantly led to a chair in the waiting room away from the other patients. The nurse took a clipboard from the front desk and sat down next to him. "Okay, sir, can you tell me your name?"

"Keith," he tried to calm his shaking hands, "Keith McClain."

She kept her eyes on the paper as she wrote down his answers, "And your husband?"

"Lance McClain." He took a quick look back to the room Lance was being held in. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"We're gonna do everything we can."

"Please don't bullshit me."

She looked up from the clipboard to give him a solemn look. She sighed, "Well, it doesn't look good."

"What's wrong with him?" Keith resisted the urge to jump up and run back to him.

She shrugged, "We aren't exactly sure yet. I'm sorry, Mr. McClain."

"Oh," Keith's heart hammered against his ribs.

She placed her hand on his arm, "Can I ask you a few more questions? It will help us greatly."

Keith nodded, "Sure."

The nurse asked him a lot of questions about Lance's medical history. Some of them, Keith didn't even know. These questions specifically made him even more distressed. It felt like he was holding Lance above a cliff, trying to pull him up. Every time he couldn't answer, Lance's grasp loosened. Keith wasn't stupid. He knew. He just _knew_ Lance wasn't doing well. He _knew_ that Lance may never get well. After the nurse finished, she left him with the promise of updates. Keith sat in the chair holding his head in his hands, staring down at the floor. If it were anyone else, he wouldn't be this worried. However, _every_ little sickness could kill Lance. Easily.

Keith sat there alone. Who would he call? Shiro was probably already notified, most likely on his way over right now. Keith remembered how it was when Lance had his stroke. The waiting room was full of family. His parents, his friends, his brothers. He stopped with a slight gasp. Mark. Keith never understood why Lance invited him to the wedding, let alone as his best man. The realization crashed down on him like a bomb. He quickly pulled out his phone and found Mark's number.

 _"_ _Hello?_ _"_ Mark's voice was groggy. He must have gone to sleep early.

"Mark? It's Keith."

Keith heard shuffling, " _What the fuck do you want?_ _"_

Keith held back the urge to break down, "It's Lance, Mark."

Mark's tone morphed into that of the worried brother he never was. " _What about him? What happened?_ _"_

"He collapsed." Keith fidgeted in his chair. "I'm at Arlington right now."

 _"_ _What?!_ _"_ Mark spoke to someone Keith couldn't hear, then returned to the phone. " _Why did you call me?_ _"_

"Mark," Keith sighed, "I think Lance wanted you here."

Mark was silent for a few moments. " _You mean—?_ _"_

"Yes." Keith held back his sobs. "Will you come?"

Mark sighed, " _Of course I will. I'll be there in ten minutes_ _."_

Keith lowered the phone to his lap and leaned his head into his hands. _What else? What else did Lance show him?_ Keith raked his mind for any loose ends that Lance had so skillfully hid from him.


	32. Haha *finger guns* I Am Not Sorry

When Mark arrived, he stared at Keith for a few moments before sitting down next to him. They didn't say a word to each other. They couldn't. The only thing they could do was wait for the doctor.

Finally, he came. Keith turned his head to see him walk down the hall. Everything went in slow motion, and the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. The doctor wiped his forehead and visibly sighed. Keith could feel his heart break. He knew what the doctor was going to say before he even reached them.

"Mr. McClain." The doctor greeted him with a straight face.

Keith stood and nodded. He motioned to Mark, "This is Lance's brother."

The doctor shook his hand. He took a breath, "Will you walk with me? I'll take you to your husband."

Keith gulped and nodded, following the doctor through the halls. He kept his body on autopilot as he listened to the empty words he spoke.

"Lance's condition is severe. He has a very bad case of pneumonia." The doctor talked with his hands, "How long have you noticed he was sick?"

Keith gave him a confused look, "Just before I brought him in. He collapsed and that's when I noticed. Why?"

The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. After a moment, he finally spoke. "Mr. McClain." He stopped walking and locked eyes with him, "For Lance's condition to be this severe, he had to have been sick for days, maybe a week or so."

Keith furrowed his brows and shook his head. "You don't mean–" he trailed off.

Mark stepped in, "So he hid it from you?"

Keith waved him off, "Shut up, Mark."

"I'm very sorry," the doctor lowered his gaze. "I'm afraid I should warn you before we enter."

Keith shook his head, "What do you mean?"

"Well," The doctor stood tall as he explained. He looked as if he had just been asked to speak in from of the class. Like a teacher's pet. "The pneumonia Lance has is almost harmless to you, but when there are underlying conditions, it becomes very serious. And," he shrugged," well, lethal."

Keith stared at him with a dumbfounded expression, "I'm not following."

"The odds of Lance recovering are almost zero. He's going to continue getting thinner and sicker." The doctor crossed his arms to relax, "I'm giving him a week."

Keith's eyes widened as he stepped forward, "What?! What do you mean?!"

Mark shook his head and lowered his eyes, "Are you saying that my little brother is dying?"

The doctor nodded, "Unfortunately, yes. There's nothing more we can do but keep him comfortable." He gave Keith a look of pity, "I'm very sorry, Mr. McClain."

Keith's emotions left his body. Everything went numb. This was the moment he had hoped would never come. He took a shaky breath, "Can I see him now?"

"Of course," the doctor opened the door they had stopped at and let them in.

Lance looked anorexic. His skin was stretched around jagged layers of bone with no pillow of muscle. His skin had gone four shades paler and his eyes had glazed over. Keith knew he had gotten smaller. When they slept together, he noticed it more and more. But as Lance lied on the hospital bed in the morning light, Keith could see that he had been blind. He had been smacked in the face by a reality he never wanted to see. Lance was sick. He was always sick. No amount of love could cure him. It was a fact Keith had been refusing to accept.

Wires and tubes were attached to Lance's dull skin. They latched onto him like leeches, sucking all of the life out of him. An oxygen mask was lied over his mouth like a gag. Without the cover of Lance's cute winter outfits, he looked a lot more depressed than ever before.

Lance lifted his weak eyes to smile at Keith when he walked in. Keith slowly drifted over to his side and took his bony hand. He kissed his slim fingers and gave him a worried expression.

Lance spoke through his mask, "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

Lance smirked, "Like I'm dying."

Keith sighed, "But you are."

Lance chuckled, which turned into a hacking cough. "Yeah, but we don't need to act like it."

Mark let out a shaky breath, "Hey Lance."

Lance turned his head to face him. His eyes teared up as he gave him a wide smile. "You came."

Mark took a deep breath and walked over to the other side of his bed. He scratched his head, "God, Lance—you—you're so thin."

"Yeah." Lance lifted his unsteady hand to take Mark's. "But you're here."

Mark used all his strength to keep himself together. "Why did you want me here, Lance?"

Lance gently squeezed his hand. He looked up at him with dazed, bright eyes. "Can you—" his voice shook, "Can you stay?" He forced a smile, "I've got my big brother now." He slowly shook his head, "I'm not scared anymore."

Mark broke down and let out a sob. "Oh, Lance."

"Shh," Lance chuckled, "This is a no crying zone."

"I'm sorry!" Mark cried out as he held Lance's hand. "I'm so sorry!"

Lance smiled over at him, "I know. I always knew."

Mark shook his head as tears streaked his cheeks. He spoke in a broken, pitiful whisper. "Can you forgive me?"

Lance lifted his hand to flick his nose. "I forgave you a long time ago, dumbass."

Keith brought his forehead down to the back of Lance's hand. His brain was still muddled. He couldn't feel anything. Lance used his other hand to run his fingers through Keith's hair. "Hey."

"Hmm?"

"Look at me."

Keith lifted his head to face him. Lance slipped off his oxygen mask and kissed Keith's cheek. As he pulled away, Keith quickly grabbed him and kissed his lips.

Lance pulled back a little, "Keith, I'm sick!"

"I don't care." He cupped Lance's cheeks and kissed him deeply.

After pulling away, Lance smiled up at him. "You were always reckless."

Keith rolled his eyes, "Says you." He let go of his cheeks to take his hand.

Lance turned to the other side of his bed, "Hey Mark?"

"Yeah?"

He flashed a gentle smile, "Do you want to play cards?"


	33. Raise Your Hand If You're Literally Crying.

Lance got thinner and sicker, just as the doctor had said. The stupid doctor. Keith despised hospitals. He hated them for taking away his world. Lance spent most of his time playing cards or talking with Mark. When he wasn't up, he slept with Keith's hand in his. There was a man a few rooms down who had pneumonia as well. The difference between his situation and Lance's was that Lance only got worse while that man went home.

It only took four days for the pneumonia to kill Lance.

He died at 3:58 pm on a Tuesday.

It was slow. Quiet. Whenever Keith thought about death, it was always loud and angry. But for Lance, dying was gentle. He lied in bed holding Keith's hand as his breaths became more and more strained and shallow. Lance had asked Mark to leave the day before, as he didn't want him to see his death. The only person with him was Keith and a nurse.

"Hey Keith?" Lance spoke with a strained inhale.

"Yes?" Keith's face was calm and relaxed.

Lance took a shallow breath, "Do you...do you think I'm special?"

Keith furrowed his brows. "You know my answer is yes, but I'm guessing that's not what you're asking."

Lance shook his head and let out a pitiful cough. "I mean," after every couple of words, Lance took in a wheezing breath, "Do you think...that I...changed something?"

"Changed something?" Keith tilted his head.

"Did my life," he coughed and hacked, "mean anything?"

Keith leaned over to kiss his forehead. "Of course it did."

"For...what?" He gave Keith a panicked look. His eyes shimmered with tears, "Am I gonna die in vain?"

Keith's face stayed silent. He slowly shook his head. "No, you won't." He placed a hand on Lance's bony cheek, "I just _know_ that something good will come out of this."

Lance's eyes had become depressed lakes in his skull. They were dark and sunken in. He couldn't keep them open anymore and fought for the right to focus on Keith. "Promise?"

Keith nodded and kissed his dulled hair, "Yes. I promise."

Lance lied there and took in strained breathes for a minute. Keith asked the nurse if he was allowed to lay with him, and she nodded with tears in her eyes. He slowly and gently made a place for himself beside Lance and hugged his head to his chest. They had removed his oxygen mask as to not draw out his death longer than it needed to be. They gave him numerous drugs and simply left him. Just left him to die. How sick.

The only reason Keith was able to contain his anger was because he couldn't feel anything at all. He waited for any sort of emotion to come. He wished for a laugh or a smile–even tears, but nothing came. His face stayed in the same neutral position while the rest of his body cracked under all of the pent up heartbreak.

"Hey," Lance tried to cling to Keith's shirt with his failing hands.

"Hmm?"

Lance lifted his head to look up at him, "Thank you...for loving me."

Keith leaned down to kiss him, "I only wish I had found you sooner."

Lance's head dropped back down and his grip loosened as his muscles gave out. "Yeah," he smiled and closed his eyes. "But I'm... ...I'm glad I... ... ...glad I met you."

With his final breath, Lance's heart stopped. It was quiet. The heart rate monitor let out a single tone. Just a long beep. A never ending punch to the stomach. The nurse went around and turned off all the machines one by one. Keith lied in the bed holding Lance as he flinched at every push of a different power button.

Keith's world crashed down on him. Lance was gone. He wasn't going to wake up this time. Lance's body was silent. It had no heartbeat. No breathing. It was just silent. His thin frame sat limp in Keith's arms. The nurse let him lie there with Lance for a while. She held back her own tears.

Keith cradled Lance's silent head and kissed his hair. He wasn't ready. Keith wasn't ready to go yet. He wasn't ready to not hear Lance's laugh anymore. He wasn't ready to not touch him again. Keith _wasn't ready._ He held Lance's body tighter and waited for the tears that never came.

"Mr. McClain," the nurse placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, but he's gone."

"I know." Keith pet Lance's brittle hair. He looked down at his empty face and stroked his cheek. "I love you."

Mark was sitting in the waiting room. Even though Lance told him to leave, he stayed until the end. He jumped up with a hopeful smile when he saw Keith. Keith stopped walking at the end of the hall and shook his head. Mark's smile dropped and he sat back down to hold his head in his hands. Keith went up and sat next to him, placing a hand on his back. Comforting him seemed like the only thing he could do. Maybe Keith could call Mark his friend one day.

Lance was buried in the dress Keith picked out for his proposal. The funeral went by in a blur until it was Keith's turn to give his speech. He stood and buttoned his suit jacket, walking up to the stage. Keith took a deep breath and scanned the crowd. Lance had more family than Keith had realized. The only ones there who weren't related to him were Hunk and Pidge.

Keith held up his head and stuffed his shaking hands in his pockets. It took a few moments for his voice to finally come out. "Lance once told me that people like to leave their marks on the world—however small they may be." Keith looked over at the picture of a smiling Lance with flowers in his hair. "The gods know that he's touched every one of us." The crowd nodded and hummed in agreement.

Keith found it annoying. What had these crying people ever done to help Lance? He tore his eyes away from them and focused on the casket. "Lance believed he was small. That he was insignificant. I only wish he knew how much of a lie that was. You see, Lance was a beautiful flower growing in a pool of lava." Keith could feel his throat tighten. He rushed the speech. "I just know he's going to be part of something great. Thank you." Keith quickly stepped down from the stage and walked out the doors.

He could feel sprinkles of rain fall on his face as he stared up at the sky. His eyes stung and his breathing hitched.

"Keith?" Mark placed a hand on his shoulder.

Keith kept his eyes up, "He's gone, Mark." A tear fell down his cheek, "He's really gone this time."

Mark pulled Keith into a hug, "Yeah, he is."

Keith cried into Mark's suit as the light rain wet his hair. "He's dead!" His chest jerked and he clung to his jacket. "What am I supposed to do?! I'm never gonna see him again!"

Mark held him tighter, "It's okay, man. You'll get through this." He let go to place a fist over Keith's chest, "You're a McClain now." He gave him a smile. "And we're fighters."


	34. I'm So Proud Of This Book

Keith mixed together a drink and served a party of obviously drunk girls. Music blasted through the speakers as he worked with the difficult men who wanted their drink _now._ Keith sighed and whispered to himself, "Just one more hour."

"Hey, cutie!" A girl with curly brown hair lied her boobs onto the bar. "Can I get a margarita? Thanks sweetie!"

Keith rolled his eyes and made her drink. When he slid it over to her, she stroked his arm. "Wait!" She leaned her head onto her hand, "Whatcha doin' after this?"

Keith gave her a smile and held up his left hand, "Sorry, _honey,_ I'm married."

"Aww, come on!" She tugged on his sleeve when he turned around. "She doesn't need to know!"

Keith yanked his arm away from her, "I have a husband, sweetie." He left her before she could flirt with him anymore.

"Why do you still wear that, anyway?"

Keith turned to his coworker with an annoyed expression, "Because I'm still married, Julius."

Julius shrugged, "But he's dead."

Keith slammed his hand down on the bar and picked up a stirrer. "How about you shut your mouth before I pierce your throat with every tiny straw in this place."

Julius stared at him with wide eyes of fear.

Keith flicked the stirrer down and shot him a smile, patting his shoulder. "I'm heading out. I've got somewhere to be." He snatched his coat and walked out the door.

Keith started his car and got ready to back up before he stopped to stare at his ring. He relaxed and spun it around his finger.

_Under matching pink tissue paper was a pink Vogmask speckled with little panda faces. Lance gasped as he lifted it from the box._

_Keith shifted his legs, "I know you hate wearing those medical masks, so I thought it would be better if you had something like this."_

_Lance dropped down off the couch and onto his knees, wrapping his arms around Keith's neck. "You're the best!"_

Keith took a breath and leaned his head back. His life had been so mundane after Lance's death. What was he to do? The only option was to go back to being a bartender and living day to day.

_Lance finally connected the dots as he stared at him. He leaned his head back with a smirk, "Keith. What a surprise."_

_"I mean," he ran his fingers through his hair, "I wouldn't mind being stalked by you." He stopped about five feet away from him. He was wearing a black leather jacket and skinny jeans to match._

_Lance's smirk turned to a pout and he swung his leg around to face him and leaned forward. "You freaky."_

Lance was on Keith's mind every second of every day. Even when he slept, he dreamed about him. He couldn't escape him. Keith sighed and started to drive.

The next day, he went to Lance's grave. He always brought cherry blossoms to him. They were Lance's favorite. He adjusted his leather jacket and looked up to his spot. A woman stood in front of his tombstone. Keith knew who it was. He almost turned around when she noticed his presence.

"Keith?"

Keith gave her a smile, "Good morning, Mrs. McClain."

Her face didn't look happy. She turned back around to stare at Lance's name. Keith walked up and placed the flowers down in front of it. Lance's family had a statue made for him. It was of an angel holding up a young Lance. Keith hated it. He knew that Lance probably did, too.

"Well," Keith brushed off his jacket, "I'm off."

Keith walked a few steps before he was stopped. Lance's mother grabbed his arm, "Wait!"

Keith turned and gave her a confused look.

"Um," she let go of him and lowered her head, "I wasn't there when he died." She bit her shaking lip and lifted her eyes to meet Keith's. "Could you tell me what his last words were?"

Keith spun around to face her, sticking his hands in his pockets.

_Lance lifted his head to look up at him, "Thank you...for loving me."_

_Keith leaned down to kiss him, "I only wish I had found you sooner."_

_Lance's head dropped back down and his grip loosened as his muscles gave out. "Yeah," he smiled and closed his eyes. "But I'm... ...I'm glad I... ... ...glad I met you."_

Keith nodded, "He said to tell you guys that he loves you. And he's sorry."

Lance's mother lowered her head into her hands. "Oh, my poor baby."

Keith turned around to walk away. Lance's family had never approved of him. The only person he grew close to was Mark.

"Wait!"

Keith turned around again, "Yes?"

"Would you," her hair was oily and her skin was wrinkled. She definitely hadn't slept in days. Lance had been dead for months, yet she was still like that. It was a pitiful sight. She licked her chapped lips, "Would you like to come over for a meal?"

Keith's eyes widened. He relaxed his shoulders and tilted his head. "Are–are you sure?"

She nodded and gave him a smile. "We McClains should stick together, right?"

Keith was greeted with apprehension. He tried to speak to the people he felt wished to talk, but soon everyone wanted to be around him. They mostly talked about Lance. Keith had avoided the subject whenever he could, but it felt nice to grieve with them.

Keith stood out on the back porch and stared at the chairs he and Lance had sat at. A cigarette hung from his fingers. He remembered the feeling of Lance's cat tights that lied on his lap. He remembered Lance feeding him most of his food.

"Hey, Keith?"

Keith turned to see Andy standing beside him. He didn't answer and instead just looked at him.

Andy sighed, "I never liked you."

Keith chuckled, "I figured."

"But," Andy gulped back his emotions, "Did you," he met Keith's stare, "Did you make my brother happy?"

A smile morphed Keith's cheeks, "To be honest with you Andy, we made each other happy. But I think he made me the happiest man in the world."

Andy sighed and lowered his gaze. He stared out at the yard, "Then I don't hate you."

Keith glanced at him, then returned to staring at the chairs. "Thank you, Andy."

Andy kicked his foot out, "What are you gonna do now?"

Keith shrugged, "I don't know. I'm just a bartender. It's not like I have a great degree."

Andy turned to go back inside, "Then go to college."

Keith was struck with a realization and stared at him with wide eyes as he returned inside. All Keith wanted to do was prove that Lance didn't die for nothing. That was it. Lance wanted a purpose. That's exactly what he was gonna get.


	35. This is Bloody Texas

"Ladies and Gentleman!" A man with long dreads and a brown suit raised his arms up to address the crowd.

Keith adjusted his black tie; then tightened his greying bun and smoothed his white suit.

The man continued, "How are y'all doin' tonight?!"

A glint of light caught Keith's attention. He looked down at his ring. He brought his hand up to give it a small kiss.

_Lance let out a gleeful laugh as Keith spun him again, letting go of his hand to let him take control. When he turned back around, his face immediately dropped._

_Keith had kneeled down on one knee and held up Lance's passport. A matching ribbon wrapped around the book and carried a brilliant ring. Lance brought his shaking hands up to his mouth and stared at him in disbelief._

Keith stepped up to the edge of the curtain and waited with his hands behind his back. He took a quick look out at the excited crowd. His whole life flashed in the spotlights. Growing up. Getting a job. Meeting Lance. Marrying Lance. His smile wavered. Lance's death.

"You're gonna do great out there, Dad."

Keith turned around and reached up to ruffle his son's brown hair that resembled Lance's almost perfectly. Even his skin was the same shade of terracotta. "Of course I will, Ellis."

"Dad!" His other son looked up at him with bright eyes of blue hidden behind shiny black strands of hair. His light olive skin sparkled in the dim atmosphere. "You're famous!"

Keith brought him into a hug, "But I'm still your lame father, Caspian." He laughed, "Just a boring old man."

_His chunky, pastel pink shoes tapped the front bumper as he kicked them. "Do you think somewhere out there, there's a world where we are together and happy? Where I'm not dying and you have everything you ever wanted?"_

_"Maybe we have a cozy house and some kids?" He joined the fantasy._

_"Two kids," Lance corrected. "What would we even name them?"_

_"Two boys. One would be something cool- like 'Caspian.'"_

_Lance laughed at the silly idea, "And the other would be something cute- like 'Ellis.'"_

_"You're not naming our son 'Ellis.'"_

_"Then you're not naming our son 'Caspian.'"_

_"Touché."_

"Whatever!" Caspian pulled back and stood next to his brother. They wore suits that made them look more like children than adults. Even though they were in their twenties, they still behaved like kids. Caspian was adopted from Korea when he was five. Ellis was Cuban. He was adopted when he was six. Now, Caspian was twenty-four and Ellis was twenty-one.

"My boys," Keith placed a hand on each of their shoulders, giving them a shake. "Carry the McClain family name with pride, ya hear?"

They high-fived each other, "Yeah!" Ellis pumped his fist and shouted, "For Papi!"

Caspian laughed and joined him, "For Papi!" He gradually dropped the smile and turned to Keith. "Dad, are you sure you're ready to tell us about him?"

The announcer called out to the crowd, "May I introduce our very special guest for the night!"

Keith turned to them, "Duty calls, my boys!" Before he left, he gave Caspian a solemn look, "And yes, my son. I think it's time you guys heard it."

Caspian gave him a nod and they trotted off with hyper waves, "See you out there, Dad!"

Keith walked back up to the edge of the backstage curtain.

The announcer talked with dramatic arm movements. "May I introduce the winner of _numerous_ awards, the man who changed the world forever, the one who _cured_ HIV and AIDS, Dr. Keith McClain!"

Keith walked up on stage and shook the man's hand. The crowd erupted with applause and enthusiastic cheers. As the man exited, Keith turned to look at the screen behind him. He swallowed the tears that collected in his throat as he stared up at it. A painting of Lance was shown on the screen. His hair was fluffy and smooth. His eyes were gently closed and his face held a beautiful calmness that only Keith could understand. Keith scanned the crowd and took note of all the copies of Lance in everyone's hands. He knew he would be signing them after the show. Every single one. The eyes of many different people stared up at him. He knew them all: the skeptics in fancy suits, the teenagers obsessed with love stories, the nerds that lived and breathed medical books, and his fellow doctors that supported him all through his journey. All of them held a Lance of their own. Keith took a breath and finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Good evening everyone!" He paused to let them applaud and cheer. When they quieted down, he continued. "As I can assume from all the looks you're giving me right now, you've come to hear about how I cured HIV and AIDS." He looked into every one of their starstruck eyes.

Keith smirked, "But unfortunately, that's _not_ what I'm going to talk to you about." He motioned to the slightly confused crowd, "As I can see from all your laps, you've come to hear a story; and I'm going to tell you a story."

Keith took a breath and held his smile. The entire crowd was silent and staring up at him in anticipation. He lowered his gaze in recollection. "Do not be confused—this story is not about me. It is not about how a lowly bartender grew up to be a world-renowned HIV specialist. No. Let me tell you a story about the boy who _really_ changed the world. A boy with constellations in his eyes. A boy that was always beaten down, but refused to fall. The Papi of my two sons. My one and only love."

Keith took a breath and looked into all of their eyes, "I'm going to tell you the story of a boy that changed my life; and in turn changed the lives of millions." A smile tugged at his lips. He lifted his head and puffed his chest, motioning to the screen above him. "In a story I call–"

Keith paused to smile up at Lance. His beautiful Lance.

_He kept his eyes closed as he spoke, "Hey Keith?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"What do you want to do with your life?"_

_He could feel Keith look down at him, "What do you mean?"_

_Lance sighed, "Like your purpose. What do you wanna do while you're alive?"_

_Keith took a long, deep breath. "Just live. Like this. With you."_

_Lance's chest ached and he flinched with it. He finally opened his eyes to watch the wispy clouds float across the sky. He gulped, "What about after I'm dead?"_

_Keith didn't answer. He just let the question fly away with the wind and burrow into the dirt._

"In a story I call—" Keith lowered his arm and turned back to the crowd.

Keith gave them a proud smile. " _Bloody Texas_."


	36. Ha. You Thought It Was Over

_The video clicks on._

An older man with tawny skin pulls his arm back and settles into his desk chair, moving his curly caramel hair from his face. His worn eyes are filled with trouble and sorrow. Behind him sits a perfectly made bed and preserved room. Pictures of Lance have collected on the walls. Sunlight filters through the sheer pink curtains, highlighting the dusty air.

After clearing his throat, the man finally speaks. "Hello Lance. It's Andy." A smile flashes across his cheeks, but quickly fades. "I...needed to make this video. I hope you're listening."

Andy takes a deep breath and begins.

"I was thirteen when I told you that I hated you. That was...the last thing I said to you." He gulps, "I was too angry that you were happy with Keith."

Andy stares straight into the camera, "Lance, I was thirteen when you told me to grow up. To open my eyes. It took nine years, but I finally have." He starts to choke up, "And I'm so sorry."

Andy takes a moment to hold his hand over his mouth, keeping his tears at bay. When he finishes, he lowers it back down. "I was fourteen when Papi told me you died. He came into my room in the evening and sat down on my bed. He took my hand and looked into my eyes as he told me that the day we knew was going to happen finally did. 'Lance died today,' were the words he used."

He looks to the side and bites his lip, "I was in shock for a long time; but after Papi left and I came to, I just cried and screamed. I cursed the gods you believed in, and the nurse that messed up and gave you the disease...and...Keith. Man," Andy looks up and lets out a solemn chuckle, "I blamed Keith for the longest time. I was angry that he didn't save you, that he didn't get you to the hospital in time, that he didn't love you enough, and any other excuse I could think of.

"Months after your funeral, I talked to Keith for the first time."

_Andy sighed, "I never liked you."_

_Keith chuckled, "I figured."_

_"But," Andy gulped back his emotions, "Did you," he met Keith's stare, "Did you make my brother happy?"_

_A smile morphed Keith's cheeks, "To be honest with you Andy, we made each other happy. But I think he made me the happiest man in the world."_

_Andy sighed and lowered his gaze. He stared out at the yard, "Then I don't hate you."_

_Keith glanced at him, then returned to staring at the chairs. "Thank you, Andy."_

Andy runs an exhausted hand through his hair, "I told him that I didn't hate him, hoping that maybe it would fix what I said to you. It's strange to think that it was the first time we had talked." Andy laughs at himself, "I told you that he was a bad guy, but Keith was nice to me. Thinking back on it now, all he ever did was talk about how much he loved you. He never stopped wearing your ring, either.

"Actually, at the end of that conversation, I told him to go to college." Andy laughs harder, "Guess where he is now?" He leans into the camera, "College!"

Andy sits back in his chair and crosses his arms as a smile creeps across his cheeks. "To be honest, I was just being bitchy; but he actually went back. Oh! And guess what he's gonna do? Research HIV and AIDS." His eyes drift off as a look of reminiscence flashes across them. "You...you picked a good guy, Lance. I wish I could've told you that when you were alive.

"I've made a lot of mistakes, and..." Andy's eyes return to stare into the camera again, "and so did Mark."

He brings his hands up in defense and shifts his position, "I know you may not want to hear this, but it needs to be said. After you were gone, I confronted Mark about what he did to you." Andy looks down, "He cried, Lance. He just cried and cried. When he calmed down enough to speak, he told me everything. He told me about how he used to let his friends beat you up; how he would slap you if you made him mad; how he would lock you in closets so you didn't get to play sports with us. He told me everything.

"There was one," Andy reaches off-screen beside the camera, "story in particular that stuck with me." He brings his arm back and opens his palm to reveal a cherry blossom brooch placed gently in the center. "The story about this." Andy looks down and inspects it, "Mark told me that after he threw it, you ran off. That's when he retrieved it and took off after you. He said that he found you pulling yourself up onto the edge of the top floor of a parking garage."

Andy's voice trembles, "He said that he dragged you off there, and you kicked and screamed at him to let you die." He gulps and motions to the brooch, "I actually had to steal this from him for this video. Mark keeps it in a nice box for when he wears his suit, then he wears it himself."

Andy returns the cherry blossom brooch back to where he got it and stares at the floor. "I...remember hearing you cry sometimes. I think we all did. When I gathered the courage, I would look for you; and found you hugging laundry in front of the dryer. I...I wanted to go in and help, but I didn't know how. So I left you alone." A tear falls from his reddened eyes. "I'm so sorry I made you feel alone."

A voice calls to Andy from somewhere downstairs in the house. He wipes his eyes and continues with a forced smile. "Did you hear that, Lance? That's your boy. Your Keith. We're actually friends now—Keith, Mark, and me. James...took off after he graduated. He despised being around your leftover presence. I guess I don't blame him—believe it or not, you are always with us in spirit. There isn't a day that your name doesn't come up or we don't talk about our memories of you. Keith and Mark grew close after your death, and they welcomed me when I came around.

"Lance, things are okay now. I'm still healing—everyone is—but I have come to terms with your death, and I'm moving on."

Keith calls to him again, "Andy! You coming?!"

Mark yells after him in his cheery voice, "Yeah, bro! Come on!"

"Just a minute!" Andy turns back to the camera and takes a few deep breaths, letting his eyes fall closed and his mind calm. After a few seconds, he opens them.

"Lance, I just want you to know..." another tear falls and collects with more on his jaw.

"That I love you."

Andy wipes his eyes and jumps up to turn the camera off as he calls down to Mark and Keith, "I'm coming no—"  
  


_Video End._


	37. Bloody Texas Part Two




	38. Here We Go Again

Keith sat on the park bench and tossed pieces of bread to the pigeons that begged at his feet. He was amused by how much they would fight each other over a single piece of food, so he would throw only one and observe. Eventually, he would make sure that they all got enough. There was one pigeon in particular that was smaller than the rest. It was too slow and weak to get to any food, so it was always pushed aside. A sorrowful yearning washed over him.

"What about the little one?" Lance appeared in front of him and pointed down to the runt. "He needs food, too."

Keith gave him a warm smile and handed Lance a piece, "Of course."

Lance knelt down and offered it to the little bird, swatting at the others that tried to steal it. After it ate, it hopped up on his hand and let Lance hold him. He stood up with a giggle and turned to Keith, "This is Jeffery. We're friends."

"What?" Keith chuckled, "You know each other?"

"Of course!" Lance lifted Jeffery up to look into his eyes and offer another piece of bread. "Sometimes I would come and feed him. I always felt bad because the others stole all the food."

Keith stared up at Lance in awe. The sunlight framed his royal green Lolita dress and matching heels. It casted a halo of angelic beauty that blended into the park behind him. All the dots of sunlight filtering through the trees freckled his body. His skin glowed with a warm caramel light that extended to his curly hair. Keith could never get used to how gorgeous he was. Every day was another pleasant surprise.

Lance noticed his staring and gave him a confused look. "What?"

Keith's face softened into a content smile, "You're just _so beautiful._ "

Lance immediately blushed and flinched, causing Jeffery to fly to a neighboring tree. "You—you can't just go and say stuff like that!"

Keith laughed at his flustered behavior and stood to bring him into a tight embrace. He rocked them side to side a little. "Every day with you is such a fairy tale."

Lance curled down into his chest and pouted, "You're the one that makes it like that."

A laugh emerged from his throat, "See?! You can be cheesy, too!"

Lance playfully shoved him away and skipped back, "Oh, shut up!" He pointed at him, "You're worse!"

"Well, I hope so!" Keith ran up to him and wrapped his arms around Lance's waist, picking him up to spin and flutter the skirt of his dress.

"Keith!" Lance's bright laugh warmed the air with joyful music. "Put me down!"

Keith spun him again, "You love to be picked up!"

Lance held unto his shoulders and kissed his hair, "Are you gonna do this when we're married, too?"

Keith held him up with one arm and brought his cheek down with the other. His kiss was gentle and deliberate, taking in all the softness of Lance's skin and warmth of his breath. When he pulled away, he let their lips reach for each other and yearn for more. "I'll carry you until the day I die."

"Keith!"

Keith launched himself up out of bed and glared at his roommate. He lowered his voice into a snappy tone and rubbed his eyes. "You better have a great fucking reason for waking me up."

"Yeah," Josh threw Keith's leather jacket at him, "You're gonna be late for class if you don't get your ass up in the next five minutes."

"Class?" Keith yanked the blankets off his legs and angrily threw on some clothes. He mumbled curses as he tugged on his boot laces, "Fucking _class_ he says. Fucking _class_ is more important."

"Dude, what is your fucking problem with me?"

Keith huffed and snatched his keys off his desk, "You're just annoying. Now fuck off." He left the room with his Hello Kitty backpack and started down the hall.

Josh ran after him, "Okay, dude! You know I'm gonna ask about you." He kept up with Keith's pace, "You ever gonna tell me what the deal is with this backpack?" His fingers examined the bag.

Keith roughly smacked his hand away, "Don't touch my stuff."

"Okay, okay, whatever." Josh held one strap of his plain backpack. "But seriously, do you have a daughter or something?"

"No."

"Then what's the deal with the backpack?"

Keith rolled his eyes and held up the ring on his finger.

"Oh," Josh drug out his words, "It's your wife's, then?"

"Sure, whatever." Keith yanked open the door to the medical building. "Now leave me alone."


	39. I Still Love Him

Keith stared down at the sleeping Lance in his arms. Between his chest and a sea of fluffy white blankets lied his most prized possession. His lips were parted and his eyebrows were messy. Stories were painted all over his macchiato skin, from past hurt to intense love. Everything about Lance was beautiful and had the power to bring Keith to his knees. He kissed his forehead as the night before ran through his mind.

Their first time. It was perfect. Keith loved the man in his arms more than he had loved anything else in his life. He didn't think it was possible to feel this way for another person, but Lance proved him wrong. Keith slowly leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his lips before untangling himself from him and getting out of bed.

Keith didn't realize he was crying until Josh started to freak out. "Dude, are you okay?"

Being brought back to reality was painful. Keith wiped his glaring eyes and stood up from the library table. "You have such terrible timing." His ring tapped the wood as he got up, robbing his attention once more. He fiddled with it as Josh continued to bother him.

"Seriously, if you need to talk or whatever—like—I'm right here." He outstretched his arms to motion to himself.

Keith tore his eyes away from his ring and scanned the room. "Libraries...are hard for me...to be in." A group of people with stacks of papers and books debated the questions on their assignments. A cute chubby girl read a book alone in the corner. Two guys talked as they used a computer. Everything goes on. Things continue without Lance. Even if he wasn't there, Keith saw and felt his presence in everything he touched. Lance was studying with the group, chewing on the end of a pen. Lance was reading alone in the corner, sending cheeky glares over at him. Lance was chatting while playing on the computer, using his hands to speak.

"Why?" Josh gave him a confused look. "Are you alright, man?"

Keith ignored the stares he was getting. He groaned and violently rubbed his eyes with his fists. After a few moments of silence, he snatched his textbook from the table and walked away.   
  
  
  


Mark answered the door with a bright smile until he saw Keith's tears. He pulled him into a hug and cradled his head.

Keith clung to his beige sweater and cried into his shoulder. "He's gone, Mark."

"Yeah," he tightened his hold, "He's gone, Keith."

Keith shook his head and sobbed, "I can't do this anymore!" He opened his eyes and looked up at the clouds. The same sky that he and Lance talked about their children under. "I can't do it, Mark! He's everywhere!"

Mark pulled back and grabbed his shoulders. "Hey—hey, what's up? What are you talking about?"

Keith lowered his voice to a broken whisper, "He's always there, but I can't touch him." His throat tightened with more tears, "I can't do this, Mark. Who am I kidding? I can't handle this."

Mark furrowed his brows in concern and patted his shoulders, "You can't do _what_ , Keith?"

Keith stared into his eyes for a silent minute. "I...I can't be a doctor, Mark." He took in a choppy breath. "Lance is always there—in the desk next to me, the seat on the other side of the dinner table, walking in the sunlight, spelled out in the words on the pages of my textbook—he's _always_ there!" He shook his head as his hands started to shake, "I can't do it anymore! I can't keep waking up and being reminded that the love of my life is dead! I can't do it!"

Mark didn't speak for a moment, but when he did, it wasn't hostile. "Stay here for tonight. Claire won't mind. Just...take a day off and stay here."

Keith watched his tears crash down on the porch. "I don't wanna go back."

Mark led him inside with a sigh, directing him to the couch. "Just sit down. I have something for you."

Keith followed his instructions and sat down on his white leather couch. Mark's house was clean and orderly—as if it came out of a Home & Gardens magazine. It was enough to distract Keith for a few minutes.

When Mark returned, Keith turned to acknowledge him and felt his heart immediately drop. Draped in his arms was a faint pink sweater. Mark cautiously walked over and handed it to him. "It...still smells like Lance."

Keith hesitantly lifted it from his hold and hugged it to his chest. He took a deep breath of the fabric—which, in fact, was saturated with Lance. The tears returned to his stinging eyes as his chest tightened with the pain.

"You're hugging me too tight," Lance hung on his neck with a strained giggle.

Keith lowered his voice to a broken whisper, "I love you."

Lance pulled away a little, "I love you, too. You know that." He cupped his cheeks and let out a happy sigh. "Hey, listen to me for a sec."

Keith placed his hand on the back of Lance's and nuzzled into his palm.

Lance responded with a kiss on his forehead, "Hey, Keith?" The pink sweater had become baggy on him, fighting to stay on both shoulders. He looked into his eyes and emphasized every word. "Go back. Do it for me." He gave a somber chuckle, "You were always so much stronger."

"I know it's not much, but..." Mark shifted his weight and rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, you didn't bring any of his clothes with you when you left and I thought maybe...you needed this."

Keith breathed in the fabric hard enough to sting his lungs. "Mark," he lifted his teary eyes. "This is exactly what I needed."


	40. Josh Is A Fun Character To Write

"—eith? Keith!"

Keith felt his never ending annoyance saturate his bones once more as he was yanked from his peaceful dreams. His eyes flickered open and glared up at Josh shoving his arm.

"Get up, dude!" He huffed and spun around to his backpack. "I don't know why I even bother."

Keith slowly pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes as Josh continued his rant. The feeling of something in his fingers caught his attention, pulling his eyes down to his lap. He had fallen asleep in his clothes and on top of his blankets, Lance's pink sweater in his arms. The fluffy fabric cradled his hands and filled them with warmth—the same heat that thawed his passive heart in the first place.

"Seriously, you smell like Marlboro and shame—" Josh reached over to snatch the sweater.

Keith's heart immediately pumped adrenaline through his veins as he watched his hand get closer. In a split second of panicked jerks, he leaned over and hugged it to his chest as hard as he could. "Don't touch it! Don't you dare!"

Josh jumped back at the cracking harshness of his screams for a moment before sighing and grabbing his shoulder hard. "Dude! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Keith kept his arms around the sweater and violently shook his hand off and leaned away from him. Eyes of crystal violet caged a hell of pure hatred and fear. "Fuck _off_!"

Josh threw his book bag down and furrowed his brows, reaching for the sweater again in frustration. "You are so _fucking annoying_!"

Keith kept his fingers locked on the fabric as he used his boots to kick him back, fighting as they struggled for power. All that was on his mind was that he had to protect Lance with his life. To do whatever it took.

"Seriously!" Josh took ahold of one of Keith's ankles and yanked him off the bed. "All you've done is treat us like we're the scum of the Earth!" He sat down on his thighs to pin him to the ground, forcing his shoulders against the worn carpet. With a face full of exasperation he screamed back with the same intensity and bottled up anger. "What is your fucking problem with everyone?!"

Keith's body was oversaturated with adrenaline and exhaustion—too much to find the strength to fight back. All he could do in that moment was stare back at the fiery amber eyes staring down on him.

Josh's heavy breathing remained soaked in his long-awaited breaking point. His patience had finally shattered, releasing a flood of pent-up raw emotion. With a pained blink, he spoke again. "What...what do I have to do to make you stop _hating_ me so much?"

Keith remained connected to Lance's sweater as his eyes started to fill. Tears welled up and ran down his temples, too inconvenient to be wiped away.

Josh's expression immediately shifted into worry and concern. "Hey..." he released his shoulders. "Am I hurting you?"

Keith stayed where he was on the floor and dug his nose back into the fabric he protected so faithfully. He closed his eyes for a moment to fill his lungs with purity instead of tar, tears soaking into the threads creating freckles of mourning.

"Keith...?" Josh lifted his leg off and sat down next to him.

Pathetic. That's all he was now. A puddle of sorrow and despair on the dull carpet of his dorm room. He had waved off everyone else with his pessimism but Josh always persisted. A strange breed.

Keith remained buried in the pale pink as he spoke in breathy trembles. "I had a husband."

He could hear Josh's breath hitch. "Had?"

Keith's eyes called out for mercy as he continued. "I... _had..._ a husband..."

"What?" Josh lowered his voice to a gentle tone. "Did he leave you or something?"

Keith quickly shook his head, "No." He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. "He was taken from me."

Josh shifted his legs and leaned an elbow on one of his knees. "What—uh..." he fidgeted with his hair, "What was his name?"

A heartbroken smile crept across his cheeks. "Lance. His name was Lance."

"Can you..." Josh hesitated and opted out of what he was going to say, instead, pointing over at his Hello Kitty backpack. "I assume that was his?"

Keith motioned to the sweater in his arms, "This too." Silence filled the atmosphere and weighed on their shoulders. Keith gave in and admitted what he hated to hear leave his lips. "He's dead now."

Josh averted his eyes and dug his nails underneath each other, "How...how did he die?"

"Pneumonia." Keith didn't hesitate with his answers now, letting his tears guide his sorrow-filled words.

Josh cocked his head, "Pneumonia?"

"He had AIDS." Keith took another breath of the fabric. "And sickle cell."

"Oh my god." Realization and regret grappled onto his teeth as his own eyes became shaky. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

Josh finally turned to look at him again, "What's the story behind the blue ' _N T'_ on your wrist?"

Keith glanced down at his tattoo that had served as an emblem of Lance's unique view of the world. An insignia of his forthcoming demise. "Lance has the other half."

"And what does his say?"

"A red _C_ and _U._ "

Josh's eyes thinned in confusion as he pieces together what it all meant.

Keith chuckled through his inaudible sobs and looked over at him. "Cunt."

Josh laughed and shook his head. "No, come on! I'm being serious."

"So am I." Keith nodded with a straight face. "It spells _cunt._ "

"Well..." Josh lifted his other leg to loosely hug his knees. "Are you...gonna tell me the story or let me continue to wonder?"

A jolt of mischief and sorrow crossed over his chest. He relaxed back into the floor and let his face scrunch up with his tears. "I...I just can't..."


End file.
